Iron Shackles
by KitKatKittyKat007
Summary: Ahsoka is captured during a mission in the outer rim. Now a slave/servant to General Grievous, Ahsoka must obey his every whim, or die. Can she live long enough to see the next day, or will she be able turn him towards a better path? It's up to her.
1. Chapter 1

Ambush

The sun was setting as the day went, nearly perching over the innumerable tall towers Coruscant flourished. The evenings glow casted over the cities with its resplendent colors of gold, making the time period on the planet more noticeable. But Ahsoka needn't worry; time was the least of her worries at the time being.

Turning away from the scenery, Ahsoka switched her attention to the Main hanger's current occupants. There was three Tector-class Star Destroyers, arriving three hours ago, were still on stand by on Curoscant's hanger bay—still no change. And neither of them was the Destroyer Ahsoka was searching for. Huffing into a fit, Ahsoka was beginning to agitate, worse more impatient. Clones from around – heavily absorbed with their data pads or carrying cargo rations aboard awaiting Venator-class Star Destroyers– paid the small Togruta no mind. The wars of the Clone Wars had only just begun and already it had spread like a disease across the galaxy, so of course the last thing anyone would worry about was reasons why a youngling was roaming through a military area without standard authorization.

Within a month the wars have become the main concern for all political affairs—those, too, of the Jedi council. Nearly all knights were called to action, and under the chancellor's direction, Lord Palpatine, the Jedi were given special ranks amongst the Republican military. And many were eager to fight for the democracy and justice the Republic stood for. Planets were in need of guidance, people were in peril, and an unknown force was the cause of it all.

_Now,_ Ahsoka, a youngling, thirteen-years old, and ever so eager to learn the ways of the Force—and as many would say—too curious for her own good. And since no one has yet to vouch to be her teacher, or assigned to, Ahsoka was kept in the Jedi Temple. Her home.

Still, on a different mind, Ahsoka feared the day she too would be brought into this horrible mess as well. She _would_ refuse, but she had her duties as a Jedi to stand for justice and peace. She didn't want to be entitled a coward. And she didn't want to let _him_ down, of all people.

_Master Plo Koon. _

Cutting through the atmosphere, a Venator-class Star Destroyer began to dock in the last vacant area. The thruster's solid roar slowed to a monotonous hum after port, sending tremendous winds of grey dust in all areas. Ahsoka nearly flew back when she ran dangerously too close, her headtails whipping back like braids. When it was finally safe to continue, Ahsoka almost tripped on her two feet from a bad start.

_Finally. And I was beginning to think he wouldn't show up. _

The bottom hull of the passageway dropped, followed by waves of marching troops returning to their home to rejuvenate from the battle grounds of carnage. Ahsoka ran past them, ignoring the stares and comments, and prowled towards the only Kel Dor aboard the ship. It was master Plo Koon, who, after speaking with his admiral, turned to Ahsoka instantly, his surprised look made Ahsoka pick up her pace.

"Master Plo Koon!"

The Kel Dor had little time to properly greet the youngling before he was tackled into what he guessed was a hug, although she had to go on tiptoe to reach above his waist. The youngling never realized how tall the Kel Dor had become. It's only been a year since their last encounter. She thought about it, and eventually refreshed. Looking up to the Jedi council member, Ahsoka smiled her feral teeth brightly.

"You're home!"

"I take it this is to be my warm-welcoming," Master Plo spoke. It was music to Ahsoka's ears.

"If you think it necessary, then yes."

Removing her grip, Ahsoka trotted after the Jedi master cheerfully. How long has it been since their last encounter, Ahsoka hadn't a single clue.

But he was here, and that was all Ahsoka ever needed.

"So how was the mission, any success?"

"We've yet to find Separatist activity so far in last two months, and the Separatists-supposed trade routes Intelligence gives us is flawed immensely."

"Sounds very . . . unreassuringly."

"Indeed it is," Plo Koon agreed. "And after so many futile searches, I find myself stressed beyond good meditation."

"You could stay for awhile!" Ahsoka bolted, taking the opportunity to ask. "If you're done with you're military duties then we can dine in one of the Temple refectories, I heard they're making scrambled hawk-bat eggs."

"I'm sorry, but my true intentions of returning were to refuel before departure."

"Oh. . . "Ahsoka couldn't hold back her frown. She was really hoping they could catch up for lost times. It has been a whole year since she's last spoken to him. "Are you sure you can't stay for a couple of hours to . . . at least . . . talk."

"I'm afraid not, little one."

Ahsoka was unable to compress her emotions at the nickname, giving Plo Koon a stern look. Plo Koon caught it just in time.

"My apologies—Ahsoka," he corrected himself. "You must control that prideful temper, though. Even the most sensible master known in the Jedi Order will find that unfit for proper apprentice."

"My temper is in check, I have you know."

Under his Antiox Breathing-mask, Ahsoka sensed an amused grin.

"You're mocking me."

"On the contrary, I'm just surprised by how you've haven't changed a bit since the last few months we met."

_Last few months?_

"Last few months?"

"Yes."

"I don't recall having any conversations in the _past few months_ since the war."

"I do."

"Well I don't. And that's just it. We never get to spend as much time together as we did back then. You used to visit me a lot."

"Ahsoka, the Republic is in need and I cannot ignore my civil duties as a Jedi. You should know."

Ahsoka nodded, saddened by the Kel Dor's declaration. But it was the next sentence that really made Ahsoka's day.

"You could come with me?"

The words tingled Ahsoka's headtails into a frenzy, a sure sign of shock. She never left the safety of her home—for stars sake, venturing through the docking bay was the farthest she's ever gone. And she wasn't planning on going a who-knows parsecs further now.

"You think that wise, master. I mean—I'm too inexperienced! I—I—"

"We'll be able to catch up. And besides, you'll get some hands-on experience on the way. Take it as one step closer to getting noticed by a Jedi master." He was really trying to get her into it. Poor Plo Koon, if only he knew. Or perhaps he did. Perhaps he did see the despair Ahsoka was feeling right now through the force. He is a Jedi council member.

"I guess," Ahsoka spoke. By now most of the crew had returned with more ammunition and supplies. Ahsoka realized she was running out of time.

"It'll be fun to leave Curoscant. I'm positive you've always wanted to leave this place," Plo Koon came again. The youngling was taken back by how hard he was trying. Did he really want her to go? Was he trying to make up for not being able to be with her now? And furthermore, did he really think she wanted to part ways from the only home she ever knew?

Ahsoka inwardly frowned.

No. She never thought of such a thing. The only highlight in this situation was being with him, and not stuck back at the Temple alone. What was she to do, she was unsure of. If it weren't for her disgraceful affections and attachment towards the man, this situation would be less of a difficulty.

Controlling the countless waves of the Force that surrounded her, masking it into calm sereneness, and after going over what little options she could come up with, Ahsoka mouthed what she feared would later be a regretful action.

"Okay," Ahsoka slowed, "I'll go."

"Wonderful."

Ahsoka pained. He was happy with this, but Ahsoka wasn't. She didn't want to leave home.

_This was completely not what I was going for. I wanted to catch up, but instead I'm recruited for a goose chase . . . What the kriff just happened?"_

When the Star Destroyer did depart, Ahsoka took a moment to look back at the cities of Curoscant as a gesture of small farewell.

_Why do I feel like this will be the last time I'll ever see this place again. _

Ahsoka caught herself instantly.

_-Be calm. You're a Jedi, being calm should be easy._

Ahsoka already knew, however, that that sort of task was too difficult for her to accomplish. She could never stay calm, patient, and collective. It was her nature to come at an obstacle headstrong and negotiate later. Perhaps that's why no one wanted her, she was too. . . wild—from her description.

Feeling the sudden change of climate, Ahsoka detected the Star Destroyer leaving Curoscant's atmosphere and entering space. Watching most of the troops working at their posts, Ahsoka did her best to do the same. She came up next to Master Plo Koon, looking attentively towards him. Her eyes glittered with admiration towards the Kel Dor. His erect stand was perfect, face deep in concentration and focus, and carrying such a strong understanding with the force that has graced him a seat among the Jedi council. Even these men, as Ahsoka became infused with their thoughts, respected him. That was when Ahsoka wondered when others will respect her as much as he. She could only wish.

Suddenly, Ahsoka felt a touch. Not a physical touch, a different touch only a force-sensitive would feel. Ahsoka picked her head up innocently, and saw that Plo Koon was looking at her. He smiled. She flushed.

"Exciting, no?"

Ahsoka shrugged. "It's okay. . . I guess."

"I'll try to make things more enjoyable to you're taste then, Little Soka?" His voice teased.

What would be more enjoyable to Ahsoka was a nice lunch with him. But she dare not say that out loud, he'll be displeased and she didn't want that. She didn't want him to notice her attachment, her shame.

"Let me know when you do," Ahsoka yawned, pretending to be bored and diverting her attention. Plo Koon nudged her arm playfully. Ahsoka smirked and giggled happily.

Returning to his original attention, Plo Koon focused towards the bridges' front view intently as if searching for something Ahsoka could not detect.

"Commander, how far are we now from our destination point?"

"About five parsecs more, sir," the clone dressed in grey answered, saluting.

Ahsoka approved the information, the sooner this mission was over the sooner her and Plo Koon can go back to the temple together, alone, away from the war. Yet after another parsec, Ahsoka struggled with herself to keep patient. The entire time she was standing there, the Kel Dor was occupying himself with his crew. Ahsoka couldn't take it anymore, and decided to take action.

"Master Plo? So about catching up—"

"Hold on a minute, Ahsoka—Commander, make sure our shields are ready to operate at full capacity once we've arrived!"

"Yes, sir."

Ahsoka furrowed her brows. She watched him speak to another clone about intel sources, sources she'll probably have to study later, and waited for her chance to cut in. She tried again.

"Um—master . . . ?"

Plo Koon turned and recalled Ahsoka. "Sorry Ahsoka—not right now." He said and whipped back to two more clones.

"But you said—"

"Ahsoka," Plo turn again, concerned. "Not right now."

Ahsoka huffed and crossed her arms. Childish it may be, but what else could she do. She wanted to talk, to catch up for lost times. She knew better than to be selfish, but right now Ahsoka wanted to fuss, her eyes were stinging. But she hid her problem well enough for him not to catch on. If he was paying any attention to her anyways.

She decided to make herself useful, but even that was a mistake. Once she tried to help with cargo checks, connections, and battle strategies, and all of them ended with her being turned away with, "It's not you're business, kid." But Ahsoka knew better. She wasn't a fully trained Jedi, nor a helpful hand in war, so why bother with her. The dark concept stung Ahsoka deeply, seeing it necessary to remove herself from the upper levels and find refuge in the Main Hangers—hiding herself under an AT-TE.

As the stars twinkled in the vast darkness dwelled in the galaxy, Ahsoka stared out through the opened dorsal main hanger doors of the Venator-class Star Destroyer. It was here where she kept to herself from those around, afraid and in need of solitude where her personal affairs could be kept in secrecy. She desperately needed to be left alone, earnest to absent herself from the mental stress and anxiety of the occurring conflicts, to where – like many others – she could grasp upon the spiritual atmosphere where everything was clearer in perspective. Ahsoka allowed a grumble of stress pass through her pale lips, her mind still in conflict. _How could she have not said no?_ Was the question that continued to repeat in front of her. She could be in her room studying and practicing in the Jedi dojo right about now, but instead she was lied to go on this blasted mission and be judged so cruelly.

"_Stang._ Master Plo. This isn't . . . what I had in mind," She crumbled.

But even after his false promises, Ahsoka couldn't stay mad at him. She never could, and never would, not after everything. And she was so certain—after many years of contemplation—that he was the right master for her. Despite her highly energetic and slight arrogance – she was confident without a shred of doubt. Plo was always the patient man, even in the stress of conflict or pressure, he came through with tactful resources and usage of the force. This, thus, placing him amongst the highly respectful Jedi council. But council or not, Ahsoka always respected Master Plo Koon deeply and honorably. And knew that if anyone could handle her, it would be him.

But right now Ahsoka was starting to re-examine Master Plo as she sat herself further under the AT-TE. She knew it was too good to be true for the idea of her to bond with Master Plo during the mission. A mission that would require the Kel Dor's full attention, but was discouraged when after several attempts to converse with him were constantly interrupted by the clones and their requests for the Jedi Master's wisdom and tactic ideas. When it came to strategy planning and sorts, Ahsoka did not carry the creative strategic mind Master Plo Koon seemed to carry, and when a clone would ask her advice, Ahsoka admitted honestly for her disability and was left with disappointment, a feeling Ahsoka felt sting her pride—and Plo Koon. Yes, it was her first time up in the front-lines– however, that was no excuse for her to be mentally deficient.

In the midst of her recollection, Ahsoka forgot to the notice a presence coming in close. Using her echolocation ability, with much concentration, Ahsoka could determine the location of her future guest. She wasn't anxious, she knew who it was, and question was however: how in heck did he find her?

"Ahsoka," the voice called out in a strong tone.

Ahsoka turned, and smiled weakly, waving the Kel Dor towards her as he came into view, Master Plo Koon. The Kel Dor came up to her in a kind gesture, standing next to her sitting figure at the same time looking down at her with a curious expression with his arms tucked behind his back.

"Master Plo Koon, do you have business you need to finish in the hanger bay?" Ahsoka asked kindly, masked. Hoping that the Kel Dor wouldn't becoming suspicious.

"I should ask you the same question?"

_Stang._ Ahsoka gave him a blank stare.

"What are you doing in a place like this?"

"Hiding."

"What for?"

The Togruta teen tucked her head down, afraid of explaining herself further. After re-thinking the situation, the whole issue felt stupid now. Ahsoka patted at the free space next to her has an open invitation.

"Master, please sit with me."

The Kel Dor slowly dropped his hands to his sides, his perception confused by Ahsoka's guarded behavior. He did not object to her request, sitting himself to her left, goggles never retracting from Ahsoka. Ahsoka took a small glance, making sure that her friend was still there before taking a breath of content.

"Have we reached our landing point yet," the Togruta diverted quickly to keep off suspicions. He could easily read her like an open book. She couldn't detest that sort of relation; however, that happens to those who are truly close companions.

"Almost," Plo Koon replied. "Though I've spent most my time searching for my missing _observer_."

"I'm sorry, master."

"Next time you feel the urge to leave, please inform me."

Ahsoka had to keep from rasping. He can not be serious?

She nodded with better encouragement.

"I will master."

Whatever happened to the tranquil mood died down soon after, and everything else became awkward. Ahsoka changed her way of sitting after a minute of doing nothing in the silence. She did her best to hide her inner turmoil, fabricating the force around her to steady. It didn't work. Plo Koon could tell, whether it was her stiff body language or the mood.

"I sense you're inner trouble, the force surrounding you is in chaos," he perked up.

Ahsoka gave the ground a dirty look.

"I'm fine."

Plo Koon placed a firm yet gentle grasp over Ahsoka's left shoulder. Ahsoka nearly shivered at contact. "As you're friend," Ahsoka mentally cringe at the emphasis on the 'f' word. "You can always speak to me in personal troubles."

"Thank you master, but really I'm _fine_."

"Then why are you hiding under an AT-TE?"

After a long, small moment, Ahsoka blurted the truth. "You seemed so occupied with you're duties to the troops and all that I figured I would be less of a bother if I wasn't tagging along."

The master's face fell back in shock. "That is preposterous; I am never bothered by you're company, young one. You should know that."

"I just don't want to . . . ," She had to fight the urge to bite her bottom lip, "damage you're reputation you have with the troopers."

"Reputation?"

"The troopers," Somehow Ahsoka managed to get the words out more thoroughly. "They look toward you're guidance as it were to save the ends of this war, while they look down on me with disappoint because I carry no warfare intelligence. I'm ashamed."

"Do not take it personal, Ahsoka. Besides the subject, this is exactly the reason why I brought you with me." Ahsoka became confused. Plo Koon explained. "Experiences counts more than what the archives can provide, once you have a taste out in the battlefield then you'll be able to craft your own abilities into your own uniqueness."

"I guess, but what if I don't," she frowned, still looking toward the down-side instead of the up-side. "Once I become you're padawan, how am I-"

"Padawan? Plo Koon interjected, a little bewildered and at a lost.

Ahsoka stared at him. "You _are_ taking me as you're padawan," she searched for the answer, but was diverted. "Aren't you?"

"That is up to the council. I may sign up for one, but it is likely it won't be you."

"Why not!" Ahsoka jolted up from his words, regretting it entirely after hitting her head against the hull of the AT-TE. She winced and rubbed it tenderly, knowing that she would feel that later on the days pass. Plo Koon sat her back down and rubbed the back of her head like a father would to ease his child.

"Are you alright?" he asked with a soft tone. "I blink, and you ram yourself head-on with the AT-TE."

"I'm fine. I'm fine," Feeling for the back of her head, Ahsoka winced from the sting. She pretended it didn't hurt as much as it really did. That would have made it even more childish. And she didn't want to look weak in front of the Jedi Master. "I'm fine."

"No. You're not. Come here," he held out his hands for her to come closer to him. Ahsoka, hesitant at first, returned to Plo Koon and allowed him to massage the back of her scalp in a tender manner.

"What am I to do with you, Ahsoka?"

Ahsoka dropped her head from his watchful eyes as a shameful answer, pressing her forehead against his chest as he rubbed her migraine, secretly blushing from the close contact and humility.

"I'm sorry."

She was a fool, she thought after mentally scolding herself.

How could she have thought luck would come by so easily? Of course she could not be his padawan. Facing the facts, Ahsoka realized she was never that elusive when it came to revealing her affections to the council member, what many at first thought was out of gratitude for finding her alone and helpless back on her home world – Shili. She remembered when she was little that she was on her own in most of her childhood, fending for herself in the carnivorous infested terrain of Shili, eventually earning herself a kill at a young age – her headdress proof of her prowess accomplishment – until she was too weak and on the brink of death, until a stranger wandered in her distress and nurtured her, saw her abilities, and took her to her home. After that, Ahsoka became very close friends with Master Plo Koon, closer than any one in either of their lives. Time to time, Ahsoka did wonder the whereabouts of her biological parents, but grew to the master her father figure. He was all she needed.

"Could you. . ." Ahsoka face burned. Her throat dried nervously, Ahsoka swallowed. "Could you massage my headtail like you did when I was little?"

Ahsoka felt his hand touch her headtail, and relaxed as he gave in to her request.

"Thank you."

For a while the two looked up to the stars in wonder under their seclusion, ignoring the duties of war and relishing in what calm tranquil still lingered in all the bloodshed spilled in wars wake. Ahsoka felt Plo Koon's presence her heaven, every time he would be with her, she could be comfortable and be herself. She wanted this peaceful moment to never end as she laid next to him comfortably, uninterrupted.

"The stars are bright this evening."

Evening? Has time really gone by so quickly, it was hard to tell since they were up in space, and without a proper watch and time period, it was hard to distinguish exactly.

"They are aren't they," Ahsoka smiled.

He said something unintelligible under his breath. Ahsoka asked him to speak again.

"Even in complete darkness, purity of life will still live on in days."

Ahsoka cocked her head to the side, bewildered by the wisdom.

"What are you trying to say? You know, sometimes you're words can be a bit too much for me."

"Good. Children shouldn't understand the wisdom of a wise aged man such as I."

Ahsoka elbowed Master Plo Koon in a playful manner. "Master!" she giggled. "You're not that old. And I _somewhat_ understand the logic of you're wisdom in respect."

"I have a mind you do."

Rotating, Ahsoka turned on Plo Koon.

"So. . . "

"What is it?"

"About what you said. The whole purity of life in darkness and all."

"I thought I heard you say you understood."

"_Somewhat _– remember – I understood _somewhat_," Ahsoka smiled slyly.

"I meant how darkness cannot fully overwhelm a heart, no matter the personality. There is always good in everyone, even the most savage beast."

"Hmm . . .," Ahsoka contemplated for awhile. "I have to disagree on that.'

Ahsoka heard the man raise a brow at the disagreement; he didn't expect an argument. When Ahsoka saw the reaction she held up her hands as means of defense.

"Don't get me wrong! I'm more of the cross between – or – in the middle-"

"Sort of like on the fence."

"Sure sure, whatever. But you see, to me, if there was the vilest creature known to the galaxy existed, I doubt it could possibly carry any sense of humanity."

"Yes, but such a creature cannot exist, or, even survive in this time. There are a lot of good people out there, Ahsoka."

"Like you," Ahsoka noted.

"Like me, and you," he pointed to the stars, "everyone."

"Psh yeah, definitely shows in the war."

The Master Kel Dor sighed with a heave, straining to keep up with the child. Ahsoka couldn't help it though. She was more open-minded than most, seeing things differently in comparison, perhaps that's why she became more advanced than most.

With a 'humph' the Kel Dor lifted himself from his sitting, with his grasp still over Ahsoka's shoulder, pulled her up after him as well.

"Come."

Ahsoka went stiff, the idea of leaving their spot didn't suit well with her.

"Where are we going?" Ahsoka had to ask, trying her best not to reveal her distaste.

"To the bridge, I can't leave my men unattended."

Under the sympathetic and understanding façade, Ahsoka dreaded going back to the place where she felt like a lower life-form.

The bridge was bustling with the clones, navigating and co-operating with the instruments to ensure a safe passage. The men tended to the ship as if their life depended on it. Funny, too, it didn't seem like anyone in the bridge were in need of help.

A clone admiral, easily determined from his counterparts with the mustache upon his chin, was the first to greet the two Jedi as they continued through the bridge.

"General, we are arriving at our destination momentarily."

"Good," Plo Koon acknowledged, playing with the tip of his Auxiliary mask. "Begin tactic positions on both east and west and proceed. I want little casualties as possible, so we'll be taking defensive positions up front."

Ahsoka found that hard to believe from her point of standing. There were three Venator-class star destroyers with enough fire power to decimate anything in their path, so why did Master Plo Koon want to take precautions. She had to ask.

"Master Plo Koon," Ahsoka moved in before anyone else got to him. It was a first out of the whole trip. "Why are we taking safety procedures, I don't think this mission requires such care."

"Do not underestimate the enemy Ahsoka, that sort of blind arrogance could very well lead you to your own demise," Plo Koon lectured.

"I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright; you've learned you're lesson, now take it to heart."

"I will master Plo," Ahsoka smiled brightly, warmed by his praise. "Always."

"Sir," a man came up. Ahsoka inwardly scowled. "We've arrived with enemy contact"

"Put the shield online and continue forward. Do we have enemy contact?"

"We have one Destroyer-class and three Minificent-class star frigates in sight, sir."

Plo Koon fell deep in thought.

"What is it, Master Plo?" Ahsoka asked.

"It strange," he answered, "Though we've proven there are Separatist activity in this sector, there is no evidence of any act of transactions. Could there be any transport cruisers of sort?"

"No, sir."

Despite the lack of hands on experience, Ahsoka abled herself to understand what was really happening. There were no transporting cruisers, meaning that there weren't any transactions taking place at all. Could it be . . . no. Their intelligence couldn't have been found out by the enemy. Ahsoka looked towards her Master Plo Koon for reassurance, searching for anything that didn't prove her right. She found none.

"Master?" Ahsoka asked, anxious.

"Something's not right," Plo Koon stepped forward and ordered the troops, "Proceed in defense formation. I want all shields on now!"

The cruisers pressed forward, arching past the meteor trail that was dangerously too close.

Ahsoka was already having a bad feeling, and anything else she felt was evidence.

"I have a bad feeling, Master Plo."

"As do I, Ahsoka. "

As if it were on cue - or the perils of the end, two more warships entered from hyperspace. It all came fast, even Ahsoka blinked once, fires were already shot and cannons were dispersed. Ahsoka froze in shock, and then it hit her like a punch to the face.

_This was her first time in battle._

Her lungs caught breath, and Ahsoka couldn't help but weakly heave to herself as her ship rocked and moaned from enemy fire, all basic training and calm demeanor crumbled at her feet, revealing a scared Togruta sprawled in the middle of the bridge. Plo Koon didn't even notice, of course, he was too busy ordering the men to revert into attack positions and open fire at incoming enemy.

Taking a large gulp of air, Ahsoka tried to speak.

"Master," she whimpered, painfully, nearly tripping towards him before getting a good grip on his arm for support as the ship rocked once more, more violent than before.

"Be calm," he said. Ahsoka was taken aback by his words. How could they be calm at a time like this? Wasn't he afraid? Did he not understand that if any enemy attack would hit them at the right moment, then they would die or get vacuumed by space?

"But," Ahsoka tried, "the enemy – they knew of our plan, what-"

"I know, Ahsoka. I know." The ragged tone was stone, and for the time – between the frequent rocking - the small Togruta could not determine the master. He was too calm. "There's nothing we can do about the situation now, our new objective now is to escape with our lives."

"Yes, master."

"Prepare fighters; Wolf Squadron will be led by me. Move," The order came in fast, yet the men were already mentally prepared to do what Master Plo Koon asked.

Ahsoka stared at the man before her in awe, never had she seen such living being be so calm and collected, especially at a time such as this. That image – along with the voice inside – reminded her that she could never be like him. .

With a sudden quake, Ahsoka was whipped and nearly ran into the Kel Dor council member, and nearly took him with her.

"Having fun."

Ahsoka spat a nasty glare. "How can you be so calm?" she demanded, further falling into the safe embrace Ahsoka stole into.

"I'm not calm. I'm just better at hiding it, is all."

Ahsoka was surprised, she couldn't even sense it. Breaking like fragments of glass, Ahsoka at last saw the dread – but not fear.

"I'm going to leave Ahsoka, and you need to stay here," a warm hand placed itself on top her forehead. She didn't like it. "The commander will watch over you in my place."

"Wait!" Ahsoka took a step back. To her it sounded like a good-bye – and a possible farewell forever. "Where are you going?"

"Outside."

"Out there!" she pointed a finger to the battlefield ensuing in space. "You're crazy."

"There comes a time when one must-"

"No, I don't want you to do that," she nearly shouted, ignoring conduct of authority all together blindly.

Plo Koon raised a brow. "Calm you're emotions, little one."

"No, I wont. Especially when it comes to you're safety."

"May I remind you that you must abide by authority."

"But I care about you." Ignoring her place, Ahsoka raised her chin against the council member. "I forbid it. I don't want to lose you, Plo. This war has taken you away from me, and I'm afraid I'll lose you forever. I. . . I love you."

Dread and fear was what defined the facial fragments that made Plo Koon's face. She sensed his fear. And his regret.

"Ahsoka, you're going against the code. You're not minding your own words."

"I am, too! I don't want you to go away forever, I want you to stay with me!" Out of impulse, and a wave of emotions, Ahsoka stomped her foot against the metal surface of the bridge, leveling her defiance another level. A ravaging ripple in the force amplifying her feelings made its way to the council member in the most sickening revulsion. After Ahsoka realized what she had done, she wasn't sure if he was about to snarl.

"Ahsoka, control yourself!"

Ahsoka snapped still, mouth wide opened, shocked with mixed feelings. He never yelled at her before.

Plo Koon rubbed his mask to ease himself, and then turned his back to her coldly. "When I return, we need to talk." He left.

Ahsoka, embarrassed, watched everyone else do their work, not even muttering her pitiful existence towards them. Trembling, almost shaking, Ahsoka bit back the tears and faced the battle going on in the galaxy. But she wasn't paying attention to that, more to what she has done.

_I yelled at him. A Council Member. It wasn't my place, never my place. Oh no. He knows. And My anger, I threw my anger at him like a savage._

Ahsoka wanted to cry, but she willed herself not. Jedi don't express themselves like that, especially crying.

She sensed her Jedi friend finally depart with his team out into that bloodbath. In an attempt to make amends she tried to reconnect towards him, offering her apologies. But she was discouraged, and the Kel Dor zipped past the front-view of the bridge to distance himself. He was disappointed with her.

"Hey, kid."

"Yes," Ahsoka muttered, not even bothering to turn around.

"Stay close to me, and don't worry. I'll keep you safe."

"Thanks," Ahsoka mumbled, uncaring if the clone noticed her displeasure or not.

"All cannons. Fire!"

Ahsoka felt the ship hum and discharge its destructive artillery at the enemy. Ahsoka felt a rush of vibration reach up from her feet to her headtails, which hued into a softer blue in lush.

Ahsoka watched the blast hit the shields protecting the separatist war-ship. It barely left a mark on the blasted thing.

"No effect, sir. They're defenses are heavily more advanced. And the formations is too strong, unbreakable!"

The admiral scrunched. Ahsoka felt his anxiety all too easily; she didn't even have to try.

"Keep firing. We can't have them thinking they have us yet boys."

"Sir, yes, sir," cried the entire bridge.

But it was a singe in the back of her mind, and a minute to get a solid look at the outcome going on in the outside that informed Ahsoka what was to come next. It was too late, though. With a blast that rocked the entire ship into a frenzy, it tipped and moaned as it dropped in a blaze. They were sinking. Ahsoka had to grab onto the edge of the bridge from keeping herself from sliding and falling on the roof which now became the flooring. The whole bridge crew had little time themselves, and those who weren't quick enough flew across the bridge and out of Ahsoka view. But she heard them shrivel in the back, the sounds of their death audible only her Togruta species could hear at far distance.

Ahsoka soon realized that this was the end.

_Funny. I should be crying, but instead I'm too frozen in fear to even move. Not that I could anyways._

Before finally letting go of her holding and allowing herself to part ways with the galaxy, Ahsoka sent one last message to the Kel Dor in mind.

_I'm sorry for being disappointing Master Plo Koon._

At that, her fingers released their grip on the edge. Ahsoka fell with the ship as another blast blasted its way to the bridge. Cold alluring Darkness consumed Ahsoka's consciousness into nothingness after that.

* * *

Hopefully this will show the kind of attachment Ahsoka has for Plo Koon which will affect her later in the story. But that's all I'm revealing for now.

= Please R & R (rate and review)!

Or Else. . .


	2. Chapter 2

Bad Day

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Ahsoka felt cold. With her sight blurred and vaguely aware of her surrounding, she tried to twist her way around to get more comfortable. And yet her arms refused to bid to her wishes as if they had a mind of their own, limping at her sides and immobile despite her mental urgings. Tossing that objective aside for now, Ahsoka moved her strength to her neck and turn it to the side where all that became viewable was grim bright white. At first, Ahsoka didn't worry to hard until her mind started retaining the last few hours that had occurred before everything went black. The ambush. The crash. Everything came back in a flux after the temporary amnesia, followed by numerous questions flooding her thoughts.

Where was Plo Koon? Where were her men? Where was _she_? Including the whereabouts of the Separatists warships that ambushed them out of nowhere.

Slowly regaining her senses, passive echolocation alerted the Togruta of movement fluctuating from beneath her resting position—and around her. She looked up and was utterly shocked by the sight before her. Equipped with blasters, Ahsoka was staring face to face with droids. Separatist's droids.

Ahsoka's blue eyes widened. She tried to get off the gurney, but even the situation didn't process to her arms to move until her eyes darted at the cuffs that were incapacitating them from usage.

Ahsoka tried to speak, which sounded like sandpaper. "Where. . . where are you taking me?" She breathed hoarsely. Her throat felt like sandpaper.

No response.

"I demand to know where you are taking me."

Again, no response.

Then without warning the gurney gave to a blunt stop, Ahsoka felt her whole body surge painfully whence it did, hissing at her captors for doing that to her.

_What's going on? Where's master Plo Koon? Where's the fleet? _

Dozen of questions were surging through her head as the droids—her ironic rescuers—were examining her curiously beneath her scorched burned youngling attire. Why should they though? She was their enemy. Then again, she heard that these things were quite insufficient intelligence-wise.

"Begin casting, operating with extreme caution."

"Roger, roger."

_Operating?_

"What's going on?" rasped Ahsoka, now writhing from their touches and prodding. "Don't touch me."

"Be still—Togruta. Any further unwanted movements will result in a failed lung—and a broken arm."

But Ahsoka was too engulfed in her own fear and confusion than to hear the vocals of a droid manufactured to kill. Quickly, Ahsoka felt for the force, and pushed the nearest droid with a scalpel crushing into the wall. A red siren went off, and not a moment later more droids came in to hold Ahsoka down. She continued to squirm, however, despite the appendages holding her in place.

Accidently, she detached a needle that was already injecting fluids in her right arm. That was when Ahsoka felt the real pain. She gave to a bloody shriek and attempted to claw at her arm, which, soon after made the rest of her body turn to fire.

A shot plunged in Ahsoka's neck. She could feel the sedative coursing through her veins like poison. The effects started to eat away her energy, forcing Ahsoka to slowly relax into submission and allow the droids to continue with their prodding. The last physical sensation Ahsoka felt was a gas mask being placed over her mouth

_Master Plo Koon. Save me._

With a forced gulp of air through her lips, Ahsoka slipped back into darkness.

When at last the Togruta went limp, the droids made way for the medical droid with the necessary medicine and syringes neatly placed over it's erect pelvic mount—and an elderly humanoid man well over his late sixties with a black silken cape draping over his form who stared with a cold, collected gazed towards the child before him. If any of the droids had the slightest micro-scrap of independent intelligence in their processors, they would have noticed—if attentive—a small smile hiding under the elderly man's silver beard.

Meanwhile, what was left of the battle that had taken place hours before were near finished. What was left of the Republic's small fleet floated in space aimlessly as the planet near by provided a sullen blood-red fluorescent light emitting from it—adding to the dark atmosphere as the Separatists fleets finished off the last surviving squadrons who refused to retreat.

Aboard the Separatist's fleet's main flagship, all infantry battle droids were toiling the nava-computers and other computers. Signaled beforehand that their commander was moments from entering the bridge, the droids immediately stopped what they were doing and saluted as their Supreme Commander entered through the bridges elevator and made his way to center of the bridge. With a hunched posture that made his grey, silken cape drape over his cyborg form, General Grievous witnessed with his own eyes the outcome of the battle. For a moment, he took in the results, then rumbled in sadistic content for the Republic's lack of strength.

The Clone Wars had just begun, not soon after, so had General Grievous' reign of terror. Released and free to utilize the full power given to him by his superiors, Grievous didn't take not even a second moment of hesitation to involve himself in the war. His master, Count Dooku, has since supervised most of the assignments given to him at a certain degree, but even that would irate the general. He didn't have a problem with being watched, merely, he disliked the concept of his master lack of confidence with his general's competence of getting the assignment completed to the letter. But by sheer luck, the Count was gone in his own personal affairs and the general was free to act independently until his master's return.

"What is the current situation," swiftly demanded the general from no one in particular.

One of the droids answered, "the last unit of the Republic squadrons are being dealt with as we speak, as well as any survivors—as you've requested."

"Good. I do not want survivors. My master wants these transactions to proceed unexploited." The cyborg was answered with the common phrase, "Roger, roger," before proceeding. "Once all transactions are completed, reroute and set our hyperdrive co-ordinates to the nearest safe zone for any immediate repairs."

"Roger, roger."

Satisfied with the competence these droids rarely expressed, Grievous sauntered toward his seat to sharpen his focus on any other matter he thought necessary.

What was supposed to be a perfect undisturbed trade ended with the evacuation of all agencies and members. All trade halted. All events occurring after grievous' master left him to deal with things on his own. And that was just _kriffing_ spectacular. All the general needed was another excuse to be supervised all the more.

And the Jedi and their filthy Republic scum. They were as much to blame for this since they were the cause of it.

Grievous felt his talons begin to grate into the metal floor just by the word Jedi. He had nothing but pure malevolent hatred for them. Their religion of the Force, their so-called claims of keeping the peace and balance, all but words meant to gain the trust and place in politics and intrude in matters better suited for senates.

Dangling from his belt were the trophies Grievous collected from each Jedi he killed, their lightsabers. So far, he had quite a few, the four adoring his belt his more favored.

And that's all the Jedi were good for. Sports. Not politics.

A sudden shake of the ship's hull, and everything else followed soon after.

"General?"

Not even following to where the voice came from, the general regarded with a harsh and irritated, "What?"

"One of the clones managed to disrupt our hyperdrive before self-terminating himself."

"And the hyperdrive. Is it operational?"

"No, sir," the droid hesitated. "It requires immediate repairs before we can successfully jump into Separatists space."

His chest rumbling with his anger, Grievous swiftly ordered the droids to fix the blasted hyperdrive via nava-computer. It was the simplest, and easiest method . . . recommended especially to droids. The droids followed Grievous' instructions well. Tacking away at the nava-computer with dexterous efforts. Like an expected event that required the involvement of the droids stupidity, sparks flew and dashed around the computer systems. One of the droids who foolishly did not step in time overloaded on contact and was sent flying halfway through the bridge.

Patience wearing, and under enough pressure already, Grievous understood that he was having one of those days. A bad day.

Ahsoka on the other hand, was having a bad day the moment she began to regain consciousness. She awoke with a start. A startled start. And after recalling the previous events that occurred before her forced slumber, Ahsoka gasped and looked around her surrounding to find the droids that held her down. There was none from where she could see. Thankfully. Off to the side, Ahsoka saw the computers that were keeping her heartbeat and breathing in check, as well as the sedatives.

Oh. Oh. As if the sight of the sedatives was the trigger, Ahsoka began to feel the numbness coming from her arm. It wasn't a bad feeling. But it wasn't good either.

Sniff. Sniff. And what was that smell?

It was her. Her and her burnt stained youngling attire. Her whole body was covered in debris, and she stank of burnt plasma fire.

To ease her mind, Ahsoka allowed herself to drift with the force. Felt it's glowing warmth from this room's dreary cold. Felt the welcoming light embrace her entire body and flow with it, steadfast and unfaltering. It made the numbness in her arm completely gone, focusing her predatorily instincts to become keener on the situation at hand. With her focus solid, Ahsoka began to assess. Almost instantly she remembered the existence of her dearest friend Master Plo Koon, and attempted to feel for him through the Force. Trying to detect a ripple or a familiar fire engaged with the calm waves of the Force itself. She detected none from what she could tell. Everything was too blurry to see.

_It's probably the medicine. But if I remove it, the pain in my arm will return._

Finding the gurney too uncomfortable, Ahsoka made an attempt to lift herself up. The bindings round her wrists, however, made her actions futile. Ahsoka scowled, then remembered. She was force-sensitive for crying out loud.

_A Youngling. _

The title stung her pride a bit, and diminished the confidence to free herself.

_No! Don't think that, Ahsoka. Master Plo Koon would lecture you to stars end if you were to give up so quickly. You haven't even tried to escape. Don't give up._

By psyching her self-motivation back to maximum, she set her serene blue eyes on the bindings. Focusing with such a fierce stare, with the added independent fire of fearlessness that made her just as fierce, one would be reminded of the Togruta's predator ancestors.

_I can do this. I can do this!_

Mending her midi-chlorian presence with the surrounding Force, this time more fluidly, Ahsoka began to think herself as the bindings themselves. Thinking them slowly, inch by inch, deactivate and release their hold on her arms. And after bringing herself back to the now world, Ahsoka was successfully freed. Though not appropriate, but since none were present, Ahsoka permitted a prideful smile form across her face. She couldn't help it. Hardly a full teenager, but already she was capable of maturely handling situations at hand.

If only Master Plo could have seen her small success, maybe then he would have seen that she is destined to be his rightful padawan. And no one else. Ahsoka would have to tell him later.

Before pressing on, Ahsoka had to unfortunately remove the needles keeping her on morphine. But it had to be done. Hastily, Ahsoka delicately removed the needle from her Togruta orange skin. On after another, until her skin was completely un-punctured.

Expectantly, Ahsoka felt her arm was being pinched, slowly growing into a burning sensation. But through clenched teeth, Ahsoka endured the pain as she moved for the entrance door.

Be it the sedatives that were still coursing through her body—or just by sheer lack of needed experience, the Togruta was caught off guard by the doors parting opening—not by her. On the other side of that door, Ahsoka faced what appeared to be a human. Elderly, poised, highly educated—and strong with the Force.

"Greetings." The mysterious man spoke kindly—and guarded. Ahsoka didn't trust him. Just his presence was unnerving, whether it be presence alone or motives. It was a bad feeling altogether, and it made Ahsoka's headtails turn dark blue from agitation.

"H-hello," Ahsoka forced. "W-who are you?" Great. She couldn't make herself sound more pitiful and weak. Where did all the strong courage go?

"My name, dear child, is Count Dooku."

That name brought back a vivid fragment of the past. Through stories, Ahsoka remembered hearing from the Jedi who survived the Battle of Geonosis that a man by the name Count Dooku was the lead orchestrator of the Separatists Alliance, as well as other crimes against both the Republic—and the Jedi Order.

Her instincts were correct. Ahsoka can't trust this guy and let her guard down for one minute.

"Yes, now I remember. You are the man that went against the Jedi order. You even tried to murder a group of Jedi."

"Not exactly, child. I was merely proclaiming where my true loyalty lies with."

"You're a traitor."

"Think what you want, but I did not come here to speak of gossip." Bending forward, which almost looked like a bow, the elderly man produced an arm from his dark cape—and pointed at Ahsoka's direction. "I'm here to discuss you're current predicament—and how I am to dispose of you."

Smoothing a breath, attempting to keep calm on the situation, Ahsoka spoke again.

"I will discuss what is to become of me. But first I want to know where my friend is. Master Plo Koon. I know he's here. He's a man that is not so easily defeated."

With a pausing moment, the man seemed at first caught off guard. But form under that perfect silken beard, however, lied an elusive smile that gave Ahsoka a chill creep up the back of her neck and tickle her montrals.

"Ah, yes, yes. I will get to the matter of you're friend in due time. But you're first, I'm afraid."

Alerted by her ancestral special awareness, Ahsoka sensed company beyond the walls of this disgusting white room.

"How do you like you're room? Is it to you're liking?"

Ahsoka scrunched her white brows by the randomness of the question. "You don't have to force small conversation with me, sir," Ahsoka perked. "I'm already cooperating calmly as it is," she sharply stated.

The Count raised his elegant brow, amused by the child's resolute posture.

"You're quite mature, for one so young," He remarked.

"Of course. I am a Jedi. I'm expected to be mature.

"Well said—as well as gifted. Another reason why I am here to speak in more . . . civil terms."

"Civil?" Ahsoka questioned, still guarded.

"I wouldn't be here instead of the droids if it were not."

"Oh," Ahsoka managed another smooth breath. "Well, thank the stars for civility."

"I couldn't agree more." His smile promised hope, and not foreboding death that waited. And his voice. It was as if the very fabrication of his tone was alluring her into a delirium of false security. What scared Ahsoka more though—was that she didn't feel uneasy or paranoid because of that.

"You're connection with the Force. I ask for you to hand me you're powers for the greater good of the Separatists Alliance," Dooku said straight out.

Silenced filled the room. Ahsoka blinked once, then twice. Then broke the silence by saying, "You're joking, right?"

"I am not."

"Pardon me, but no," Ahsoka took a step back, aware of the gurney two inches behind her. "I will not betray the Jedi Order. You can't expect me to do such a thing."

"You forget, however, that you are at the mercy of my hands. I could very well say the word, and my droids will come and kill you."

"So you're saying—for the safety of my life—I must do what you say."

"In simpler words, yes."

"Okay," Ahsoka breathed.

She didn't know what to do.

A dark, and disgusting darkness began to envelope around Ahsoka. Ensnaring her in a poisonous fog. And the human was the cause of it. She could sense the disgusting aura emitting straight from where he—for what he was.

"W-what are you?" she rasped, baring her pure white teeth at him.

Dooku remained unaffected by the child's sudden expression. Staring with a cold gaze, the Count's shoulder's relaxed and smoothed his beard before breaking the silence.

"I am Sith." His tone was too casual—too unemotional that it was disturbing. "And far more powerful than any mere Jedi, even Grand Master Yoda."

Glaring, chest rumbling with a feral growl that followed, Ahsoka allowed her instincts to overcome her into a low stance. She knew she was going to have to fight to get off enemy grounds, and if she had to fight off a Sith to make out, then so be it. This man will not get in her way.

All of a sudden a mental image of her dear Kel Dor companion presented itself in front of Ahsoka's sight. The sight of him safely inside the secure and protected walls of the Jedi Temple was the first thing Ahsoka envisioned. It all turned dark afterward when the next vision showed her master's demise because of her—because of this man in front of him.

Master Plo Koon. I won't let you die. Not here. And not anywhere.

Ahsoka dropped her head into a veil of shadows, hiding her forlorn expression.

"I . . . have a request, in exchange for my compliance."

"I am in a passive mood for the time, so I'll hear what you have to say and then I will decide whether or not I'll permit it."

Ahsoka could feel the air sour and the atmosphere darken as she helplessly sold her services for the price of something—at that time—she felt she would never regret.

While Count Dooku offered his attention to the poor girl at his mercy, Grievous was dealing with his matters that he sadly had to put up with on his own.

And much to his chagrin, to Grievous the droids were not making any progress in fixing the hyperdrive. And it only was a moment like this that needed the assistance of the general himself.

Grievous pushed aside the droids with an irate snarl, re-setting the nava-computer and so on to get the hyperdrive back to operational. He managed it on his own in less than one hour. And after completing the task that he assigned to the stupid battle droids. Twisting his head in a slow malevolent manner, Grievous stalked towards the group of battle droids scurrying closer to each other in an attempt to get away from their abusive master.

"Incompetent, all of you!"

Managing to get at least those intelligible words through the vocabulator that gave the general the ability to speak, Grievous swiftly removed himself from the bridge. It was the only way he could keep himself from wreaking havoc with his uncontrollable rage. Even the sight of the incompetent droids could set him off in a second and the general would lose himself in his own rage.

The general instead decided to make various transmissions via holo-projector to the council members who involved their business with the preceding trade. Other than his superiors, Dooku ad Lord Sidious, the council members aligned with the Separatists were about the only living beings that were made aware of the general's existence. He was told it was a necessary action to manipulate the Separatists council members into believing Count Dooku those barves his utmost trust and loyalty. The general thought different, on the other hand. When speaking his mind on how such an act would remain pointless if the Count were to simply force them into placing their complete loyalties to his cause, the Count had that look that resembled ignorance and the displeasure of open opinions he failed to hide under Grievous' watchful gaze. He didn't say anything after that and swiftly diverted the subject by questioning why he shouldn't reveal himself to the rest of the galaxy as well.

_But that was already explained to me, and foolishly I allowed myself to forget such a key event. _

Right after proving himself worthy in a test designed by the Sith, count Dooku, the composed human instructed the general to not reveal himself to the public eye yet. The Clone wars has just begun, yet the general was refused to be allowed to show the galaxy who was the true mastermind in all of the nefarious strategies that completely left the Republic army baffled and pressed back to their pitiful planet. Again, the general had answer that put the general in his place yet again. When the time would come, the general would be free to do as he pleased, but for now, he had to be patient and follow his master's feet like an obedient dog.

The concept did enrage him, but the general ultimately put his faith in his master's plan. He was sure everything Count Dooku decided was absolute and with good intentions that will ultimately lead to the destruction of the Republic.

After successfully transmitting his message to the Techno Union especially, Grievous was just about to return to the bridge with his anger leveled—but was cut off by a trotting droid.

"General? General! Count Dooku wishes to have a word with you."

Back in the medical room, Lord Count Dooku was still speaking to Ahsoka. Having grown tired of standing, the Count took a seat in the only vacant chair. Ahsoka refused to sit, still wary of his true motives, and preferred to stand. Currently, the man was debating over the request the child had asked for moments before.

When he was done deciding, the Sith smiled with a calm and serene composure.

"Very well, so long as you undergo the experimental procedures, I will personally make the arrangements for you and you're friend to reunite. Will that satisfy?"

"Yes! Oh, thank you, sir!" Ahsoka thanked, pathetically throwing herself at him with gratitude. "If it's not too much me to ask—Lord Tyrannus," she caught herself as quick as a hiccup after remembering the Sith's title. "—but how many standard day's do you estimate when my request can be made."

"Oh, I'm afraid I won't know until I have the free time to arrange you're reunion. But fear not dear, I am a man of my word."

The tone in his voice nearly brought Ahsoka to tears, but she winced them away. She didn't want to look pathetic in front of this man.

A droid returned—the one the Sith Count had spoken to during their meeting—saluting before it's master, speaking whatever procured in it's miniscule circuitry, before leaving too eagerly. As if it's battery was almost overriding or some other sort. Ahsoka hadn't the slightest clue. She was never fond of droids anyway—not the ones programmed to end a life. Her favorite unit were the R-units. Cute little things. So eagerly helpful when given the task.

"So when do we depart? I wish to complete you're tasks as quick as possible." Ahsoka did her best not to sound too eager. But the safety of her friend was on the line.

"Oh, about that my dear. I'm afraid that, given my responsibility for my colleagues as well as my position in the political familiars, I' haven't the time to properly care for you for the time being." He threw over his shoulder, whole body facing directly forward. Waiting for something, patiently passive and elusive through the force.

Ahsoka rose a white brow. "So wait, what does that mean? Will I not see my master because of this?—or what?"

"Do not fret; I've come up with a proper solution—Ah! And here he is right now."

Ahsoka, overtaken and confused, peaked her head out from behind the Count's cape to see as to who the man was referring to. First what she could make out from the distance was an abnormally large droid, a droid she couldn't quite determine. For a minute, Ahsoka had it for some sort of monster-size droid. It's size was unbelievable, it's design clearly put in great effort.

The said creature Ahsoka was referring to, having spotted his master at last, widened his stride to catch—only to slow in a split second whence his enhanced vision caught the sight of orange and white mixed together. Grievous befuddled at first, thinking it nothing more than a droid he had yet to familiarize with—and destroy if it displeased him so, but was intrigued, and startled, when he realized what it was.

A child.

"Why is there a child aboard my ship?" Grievous half-barked-half-yelled. Ignoring to address his master in anger, as well as irate that his master would go behind his back and allow a survivor to slither in his ship when he specifically ordered his crew not to.

"For personal reasons, I assure you, general."

"Why wasn't I aware of this?"

"Because I know how you would have reacted had I gave word. Clearly, my assumption is proven fact."

Realizing his mistake, the general corrected himself swiftly. "F-forgive me, my lord."

Ahsoka froze in fear; her mouth gaped in a large O. It talked! And too humanly. Too alive. Too—uniquely intelligent for a mere droid. Foolishly, the Togruta made the mistake of leaving the safety of the Count. Curiously with an outstretched hand, Ahsoka tried to touch and better inspect the peculiar creature. She could sense pure life emitting from deep within all that durasteel. She could sense the warmth, the sounds of a beating heart at a Togruta distance.

It's a cyborg.

Cyborgs. First off, droids and machinery weren't the top subjects Jedi were fond of. They were not organic, and, therefore, did not have the midi-chlorian presence organic beings carried. As such, even cyborgs were often looked down on in the same degree depending the procedures they submitted themselves—or forced to submit to. It came to Ahsoka that this was actually her first time meeting one.

Ahsoka was cut short of her action by inhuman speed when the general snatched her arm, squeezing it slowly as a warning.

"Don't do that!" it roared at her.

When she looked up, Ahsoka met with a pair of fierce golden eyes. There was reddish skin within the sockets, indicating that perhaps the not all of the cyborg's flesh was removed.

The menacingly tall cyborg was hovering over her with the most malevolent glare, a stare that brought Ahsoka back to her sense and ran back behind the Count. The elder took one stride to the side, and brought her back up—much to Ahsoka's chagrin.

"General, this is Ahsoka Tano," the Count presented casually. He looked down to Ahsoka. "Ahsoka, this is the Supreme Commander of the Droid Army, General Grievous."

Ahsoka said nothing, except regard the general with a fearful stare. The general returned with the same glare, same hatred. Just the sight of his arched-posture that resembled a beast ready to kill, it's claws bared and deployed, and it's claw-like feet sharp and intimidating—made Ahsoka tremble in place.

"Grievous, I'm assigning you to care for this child. She has placed her allegiance to me, and is of extreme importance to the Separatists Umbrella."

The entire corridor fell silent. Ahsoka was more frightened than ever when the general angrily protested.

"Is this some sort of joke? I cannot afford to care for a pup, especially with my responsibilities as a Commander of the most powerful droid army."

"I can neither find the time to care for her as well. You on the other hand, do not have to go through what I'm forced to, so it's settled. Ahsoka has promised not be a bother, and I doubt you won't ignore my command, will you Grievous?"

The general spitefully obeyed grudgingly. "Yes, my Lord."

"Excellent."

Satisfied with the arrangements, the Count left little Ahsoka in the care of whom later be the most feared adversary the Republic would ever come to face, General Grievous.

* * *

This is much better than the original.

Please Review.

Or else.

The more reviews, the more inspired I become.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author note**: I have made only one change so please viewers do not flip out! I repeat do not flip out! I have changed Grievous' perspective as of now so we'll see how that goes.

That is all.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Apprentice or Slave**

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_The old man who had presented himself inside my personal room, filled me in on the important details during my time unconscious. Indeed, Master Plo Koon was taken as well, but locked in a high security where I could not sense him as the Sith described. At first it didn't bother me, I was just delighted to know of my master's survival, but to hear the crew Master Plo Koon cared for did not make it took me aback. I was beginning to process that in my mind we were the last two survivors out of the hundreds of the highly trained clones from my former fleet. I wasn't sure if this was pure luck or dumb luck. _

_"Now we shall continue the matter of my business. . ." _

_"In relation to . . .?" My attempts to make myself clueless didn't work to my advantage, it was clear the sith was already one step ahead of me and knew me far too well. _

_"You."_

_"Okay." I quickly threw that charade away and returned to my normal fragile self. 'Completely hopeless' was what this human male was probably thinking of me right now. My muscles tensed and found my heart beating at an irregular rate, fearing for the future. Only the sweet aroma of the tea brought to me as a kind gesture from the Sith calmed my nerves a little, it was good. It had a caramel taste with a hint of lemon; the sweet taste tingled my cheeks and blushed softly. . . _

_"Which is?" I asked quickly, getting back on topic and ignoring the haunting aroma. _

_"Concerning you're stay, of course." He explained. There was a shine of eagerness hidden behind his emotionless eyes. Indeed, there was some sort of plot in relation to me, like he said. Was this the kind of 'business' he was speaking of? That brought upon the worse fears in me. _

_Was the reason he kept me alive was to kill me for his own gain. For fun? If not, then what?_

_"Are you going to kill me?" I asked, getting right to the point. My eyes picked up at the malicious smile forming on his aged skin. _

_"At the moment, it was first to consider," he admitted, ". . .Until the situation changed."_

_That set of words brought my mind to a blank. "I don't understand."_

_"Like the seasons, things we don't expect . . . happen to change right before our very eyes," He tried to describe as best as he could with what he could image. I still couldn't understand, but I didn't let him notice. "You being here has given me the opportunity to . . . think further."_

_Again I was at a lost, and it was irritating the hell out of me. "Further what? To be honest sir, I don't understand you're point."_

_He smiled, it gave me shivers. My heart raced and my breathing tensed as I was unprepared to hear what the Sith had to say after._

--

"Hey!"

My eyes snapped back to reality, back to the present time and away from that horrid man. "Y-yes?" I answered to the voice calling for me, embarrassed for not paying attention. My cheeks were burning bright rosy red mixed with tan, out in the open for all to see. A pair of eyes looming from behind my back assured me there was definitely someone watching me right now, the thought only making my cheeks form another shade of red.

My chin was grabbed firmly and held up high to the point the back of my neck ached. My eyes became locked with a pair of golden yellow eyes, entirely reptilian. I was staring face to face with a monster from the looks of it, if not the devil himself. Truly demonic in all appearances, especially from its unique designs. I looked down out of shyness and ended up gazing at its more particular designs. The entire body was completely duranium molded, so well molded since duranium was considered to be difficult to mold. I had never seen such work put into a mere droid, but a tugging feeling in the back of my head told me it was something more, something important. The more I looked at the body, the more things became clearer. There, under its chest plate, was a synthskin gut-sack carrying the proper organs needed for life. At first my stomach churned but the thought that this droid was_ not_ a droid was something worth looking into. Could it be that this was actually a cyborg, its organic flesh held in an exoskeleton droid suit? How fascinating.

Then it all came to me in a flash, reminding me what had just took place five seconds ago. I was placed under the care of this cyborg. General Grievous, if not the name I heard correctly, was my new _master. _It angered me to know that. To be given a different master – and from the Separatists – just felt like being stabbed in the heart, twisting and burning right through me, never to be removed. That was how I felt right now; my heart was being mutilated and destroyed by these people. I didn't want a new master; all I wanted was my old master. Master Plo Koon. That was all I wanted, is that so greedy for me. I didn't care about the code at this turn of event; it didn't matter anymore when it was our lives at stake.

The cyborg, General Grievous, tilted my head side to side, examining me like I was some sort of prey. He let go soon after he was done, then harshly glared at me cautiously, waiting.

"What is you're name again, youngling?" He demanded harshly, already forgetting my name.

His sudden sharp tone startled me, so startled that I tried to remember how to speak again. "A-Ahsoka . . . Ahsoka Tano," My voice stuttered weakly, lowering my eyes to the ground.

"Well then, _Ahsoka_. Welcome to the Malevolence, I am General Grievous," he greeted sarcastically, derisive as well. "Apparently I am you're new _master_, but I assure you, my dear. You are lower than that when under my care."

My eyebrows furrowed, unable understand the purpose of his words. "What?" I asked blankly.

"Do you honestly believe I would allow you to be my apprentice - especially a Jedi? Barbaric." He made it sound like something revolting – or inhumane. Did he actually believe he was the only one disgusted by this sudden arrangement?

"To me you're just a slave, maybe even a servant and nothing more."

I gulped, but tried to contain what little resistance I had left in me. "Then are you going to object against you're superiors!?" What about what the Sith-"

"Don't you _dare_use that against me, child. Ever!" He snapped, whirling he head around to make eye contact with me. The claws apparently attached to his mechanicals limbs reached out for me with devastating agility; the moment I blinked they were already there, inches away from the vital veins hidden under my neck.

I didn't let it go however, despite the razor sharp claws inches from my neck. "So how the heck does this make me you're servant and not you're apprentice. I'm pretty sure the Sith said specifically I would be treated at a decent rank."

"He placed you're status under my authority, in other words, I decide what you are."

Again he attacked me by hovering over me to prove his point, daring me to continue with my pestering. Immediately, I could hear the warning ringing in my hears, I took the warning with heed and backed away from the cyborg in response, losing. When he noticed he won the conversation he turned on his heels and continued down a different direction with me following him in pursuit. I didn't want to be left alone there, especially with the medical droids and I would probably die in this massive ship if I got lost. He would like that though, to see me gone or ridden from his sight so that he didn't have to care about me. There were miles of hallways in every direction of the ship, resembling a maze. So I was right after all, if I got lost without supervision then that would be it and my body would be found in a corner or in a storage room rotting away in the looming darkness. The only solution now is to stick with this guy for at least until I can find a map for this place. But that was the least of my worries right now, there was only one thing I kept thinking about.

Master Plo Koon. Where are you? I prayed with all my heart that he was at least given the same amount of care I was offered. Besides the whole bargaining issue.

"C-can I ask you something?" I spoke under my breath softly, unsure whether the general heard me at all. A loud growl came from upfront, but I didn't give him a chance to reject my question. "Do you know where my Master is?"

"Master?" He repeated, so confused by my words that he stopped in place and almost causing a collision if I hadn't stopped sooner. "What are you babbling about? Continue this sort of nonsense and I will be forced to diminish you of a mouth."

Was it only the Sith Master who knew about Plo Koons confinement and not him, that only slimmed chances of me knowing where on this ship my master was.

"I'm sorry," I apologized soon after. If I lost my mouth or anything else on my face, I might end up looking like him. Unsurprisingly, that gave me tingles down my spine.

"Starting now you are to follow my rules."

"Yippy," I muttered under my breath sarcastically.

A sharp slap on my head silenced me. I blinked, phased.

"No sarcasm," was the warning I was given. I rubbed the top of my head to make sure he didn't leave a gash, I felt something but the feeling wouldn't go away.

"You will obey every command I give you. Any objections and I will send you back the Count, or kill you on the spot if I feel merciful. Understood?" He threw over his shoulder, not even looking at me after that.

How the heck was that considered merciful. "What makes you think I won't just escape?" I asked, pretending I had that kind of power to escape from here.

I distinctly heard him say the word: 'Simple' then began to rummage for whatever he kept hidden under his cape. The first thing I saw was a piece of metal held in the cyborgs white claws and in a flash found it secured around my neck. I thrashed and clawed at it with useless effort, the collar refused to give in. Seeing this brought the cyborg some sort of sadistic amusement, laughing at my misfortune.

"That collar neutralizes any force activities when it is activated. At any time you decide to use the force, the collar will automatically shock you from the spine and trust me it'll be unbearable." Again he chuckled – or coughed, I wasn't sure. "Would you like a demonstration?" he purred, tempting me to say 'yes' as he brought himself closer to my horrified expression.

"No! no! no!" I pleaded, flailing my arms around frantically, hopefully diverting the cyborgs attention and drawing him away from my personal space. I was pretty sure I heard a smile form behind his mask – which frightened me at the most, yet at the same time increasing my curiosity of the strange cyborg.

The cyborg entered what looked like to be a war room, it was only the darkness hiding in that room that made me enter it cautiously, waiting for something to happen – or explode for all I know. There was a holo-projecter in the middle of the room with four bright screens surrounding it with enough space for something as big as the cyborg to slide through and work. I kept my distance as far as from him as possible, still wary of the claws protruding out of its cape.

"May I ask what you're doing?"

"No," He snapped, his eyes were set on the Holo-projecter and the keyboard connected at its side.

I tried to find a more appropriate spot to sit upon as the cyborg became occupied with the projector, tacking at the keys viciously. The silence was beginning to annoy me and ringing in my ear, so like any bored person I tried to occupy myself. I began watching the cyborg general do . . . whatever it was he was doing. My imaginations created a bunch of thoughtless and probably unlikely images the general would be doing with the projector. Like calling for pizza, throwing a party, or calling a loved one for crying out loud.

I don't know why, but this was starting to get amusing for me. Thankfully he didn't hear my bubbly giggling; it seemed he was having a debate going on in his mind about something.

* * *

This day was getting worse by the seconds. Not only did he have to keep this brat by his side constantly, perhaps for the rest of his life, but he still had his priorities with the Malevolence and he would be damn if he left it under the care of those weak minded idiots just for some measly pup.

His talons grinded the floor in frustration, gaining the attention of the Togruta sitting from afar. Of course he did not care for the child, nor for her safety for the same matter. All he wanted was to be rid of her, or just throw the girl somewhere so she wouldn't be a bother to him. He could only wish. . .

The tacking of keys was the only sound made inside the room besides the frequent moaning coming from the ventilation. The child didn't make a sound, thankfully, but there were moments where the sounds of soft laughter were made from behind his back. If she thinks she could mock him so easily then she is sorely mistaken. If it weren't for his master, she'd be dead where she stood considering all the stunts she tried to prove. To think a youngling at her pitiful level could escape from the high security in this ship would be something the general would like to see.

Maybe if he just killed her and pretend it was an accident, then surely the Count would forgive him. But knowing the count, he would most likely lecture him about his thoughtless actions and no doubt lecture him about his deed. That said, the general knew he could handle that.

Finally after who knows how long it took, the connection the general had been searching for came into view and he took no haste in connecting a transmission to the link. The Holo-Projecter beamed to life, with a familiar avatar in the center of the projector. It was Asajj Ventress.

She was tired and annoyed to be disturbed at the time – he didn't keep track of the time since he no longer had the need to sleep anymore - so it wasn't uncommon for her to be glaring at the general. It was not his fault, she just happened to cross his mind when he finally thought of a solution to deal with the little setback. Despite that, he didn't like it one bit, but he knew he could trust the assassin. But first he would have to persuade her.

"I'm not interrupting anything, Ventress?" He asked plainly, pretending not to notice the woman's attempts to keep herself stable on her own two feet.

"At the moment, yes." She hissed with hostility, rubbing her swollen eyes from drooping.

She wasn't in an 'agreeable mood' when she lacked the required hours of sleep, she was at the point of falling right there and now. Pitying her was all he felt for her in her condition, and nothing more. Pitying and resentment to be more accurate. Though there were times he shined a bit of respect on her behalf for some of her recent victories out in the galaxies.

But that was all.

"I've have contacted you for a favour." It was right to the point. "I have some personal matters to attend to back at my lair, and I am requesting you to command the Malevolence in my absence."

"For what reason?" She asked, dazed but still aware. She didn't buy it, probably knowing the general wouldn't hand over the ship for just one simple matter.

"As I said before, it is personal matters."

She groaned but submitted. "I'll see what I can do. You do know you will have to arrange a meeting for us to trade the ship, somewhere remote."

"I have already thought of that and will have one my of the droids send you the coordination's to the location."

She sighed, still not being trustworthy as always, especially with a cyborg who enjoys the thrill of carnage and slaughter. "I'll see what I'll can do. Now could you please - if you have any ounce of decencies - end transmission."

He nodded and cut it off boredley. The avatar disappeared and the beam died out from the projector. The child was no where to be seen, making the cyborgs eyes widen, or even more. She was gone, not in the room, no where. The general glanced side to side, begging to the gods that she didn't escape like she said before. He was about to activate the collars homing signal until the girl plopped from beside him all of a sudden, and possibly giving him a heart attack.

He grabbed her harshly up in the air and brought her within close range with his claws. She was scared, like he wanted her to be, like everyone should be.

"What were you doing just now?" He demanded right away, squeezing his grasp around the child's frail neck, he could have broken it if he wanted to. But refrained himself the enjoyment of the possible future screams and agony.

"I was just standing there, I swear," She choked, gasping for air in his harsh grip.

He dropped her after that and watched her coughing her lungs out and breathing uncontrollably.

"Come on, on you're feet," He ordered uncaringly. The child refused, but the general had no time for this. He kicked her in the ribs, but not with enough force to break her rib cage. This got the child's attention and after a small amount of struggle she managed to get to her feet, still wincing in pain. To put her out of her misery was the best thing the general could do for the pitiful thing. In his mind, she was nothing but an eyesore.

What ever the Count had in store for her was definitely not humane. It would only be a matter of time before finally she will lose her grip on reality, slimming what ever hope she still carried. Her mind will lose its sanity, her soul will break. And in the end she will be nothing but a mindless puppet for him to control.

Just like me.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

The com-link attached to the holo-projecter echoed in the room, gifting the general with a headache he'll have to deal with for awhile. He jabbed at the button to silence it, but accidentally answered the transmission instead. A droid – possibly the navigator droid – bowed its head lowly towards the general out of respect.

"What is it?"

The droid whispered to a different droid not in range before speaking its mind. "General, we have a problem?"

--

The droids, mindless as they were, could do nothing as the enemy fleets came swarming at them. The droids could do nothing but stand there, giving the general a reason for slapping any particular droid crossing his path.

"What is the situation?" Grievous asked to no droid in particular, the girl walking behind him cautiously.

"The tracking beacon was turned on-"

Those words brought the general's attention, he inwardly cursed at them for their stupidity. "Turn it off, you incompetent fools!"

"Too late, sir." Another droid tooted. "Enemy ships have already tracked us down. Should we fire?"

The cyborgs left eye twitched after that ridiculous question, and answered with a punch to the droids head. "Stupid idiot," he growled under his mask. "Anyone else wants to ecstatic me with any other preposterous questions, speak now. Otherwise, fire at the enemy!"

The child gasped at the general's rage and took a step back for cover; the general was already targeting her next.

"And you!" He lifted his arm and pointed at the child to gain her attention. "This is what will happen to you if you proven to be as ludicrous as these mindless dopes."

The girl understood and responded with a single nod. As much as the general appreciated a more verbal response, it was good enough to satisfy him. She was only a rookie as his servant/slave, but he will take the proper time to . . . _train_ her.

During their master's small conversation, the droids did as they were told, for fear their heads will be the next target of their master's anger. The 500 turbolasers mounted on the ships hull fired at the enemies with greater damage no other ship could possibly administer. Once, Grievous could have heard a droid report on the damage percentage on the ship, but he paid the thing no heed. His attention was drawn by the battle occurring in front of him. If it weren't for the mask covering what was left of his head, the observer would see a smile on his face. Indeed, he was enjoying this small amount of bloodshed. It was his purpose to do so, to create chaos and destruction. Something Grievous thought of as both a joy and curse for the remainder of his eternal life.

"When exactly did the tracking beacon turn on?" He found himself asking. Thankfully a droid heard as it passed by.

"Approximately ten minutes ago, general."

He was already thinking the cause of all this was the droids. Certainly the droids were not that doltish to accidentally press the tracking beacon, were they? But there were times when he was proven wrong.

Wait a minute?

-*-

_The child was no where to be seen, making the cyborgs eyes widen, or even more. She was gone, not in the room, no where. The general glanced side to side, begging to the gods that she didn't escape like she said before. He was about to activate the collars homing signal until the girl plopped from beside him all of a sudden, and possibly giving him a heart attack._

_He grabbed her harshly up in the air and brought her within close range with his claws. She was scared, like he wanted her to be, like everyone should be._

_"What were you doing just now?" He demanded right away, squeezing his grasp around the child's frail neck, he could have broken it if he wanted to. But refrained himself the enjoyment of the possible future screams and agony._

_"I was just standing there, I swear," She choked, gasping for air in his harsh grip._

-*-

That little. . .

He whirled his head and found the little Houdini had disappeared from his sight. More aware this time, he could hear the small sound of a _click _from under his feet. The Togruta had caught him off guard in his time of observing and was attempting to snatch one the many lightsabers hidden in his cape pocket. Robotically he swung his hand at her for such treachery. The child, foreseeing his attack, dodged cleverly and dashed out of the bridge.

Grievous growled louder then before, in turn causing the droids to stop what they were doing and cower before the enraged General.

"That despicable child!" He screamed for all to hear, his talons grinding the metal flooring and creating a disturbing sound of metal-grinding-metal.

The general, angered as he was, was still civil enough to order the droid now disarm the ships with the ion cannons and finish them off. It was only after he realized what the girl had brought upon herself did the general take a liking to what was to happen next.

"Let's see how you do in a game of hide and seek . . . _Ahsoka_." He hissed maliciously.

He pressed the button adorned on the control panel, activating the homing beacon in the collar. After that, he set out in search of the Togruta girl. Down the hallways, he was beginning to wonder why he even bothered. Instead of searching for her whereabouts, he should have reported to the Count for her treacherous scheme and have her executed.

No.

Instead he was on a goose chase for the youngling, _not_ reporting to the Count like he was required to so in such a situation. _But why though?_He thought. Out of pity, or possibly hidden self-humiliation was involved in his time of mixed feelings. He had none, as he promptly reminded himself over and over soon after he accepted his rank as a general. Nothing within this metal body but organs fuelled by blood and oil, and nothing else. There was no heart filled with emotions, just a mere illusion.

So why . . .?

* * *

I ran as fast as I could down the many hallways constructed in this massive piece of destruction. As I recalled, the directions to the prisoner cells were precise, so I remembered having to turn a right after passing the fuel chamber, it was all there on the screens in the war room. I was right about the search parties, they were searching for their lost comrades so bravely. Setting off the tracking beacon was a good idea, an idea I learned from Master Plo Koon actually. I took that notion in pride and continued my own search for my master. Nothing was going to stop me, not even the droids I had cut down with the stolen lightsaber I managed to forage from the psychotic cyborg.

"Hold on just a bit longer, Master Plo Koon," I thought out loud as I kept running.

A remembrance of the past came to me in a flash, causing my heart to sink all of a sudden and stop me in place. I remained frozen as the words sunk in one after another.

-*-

_The Sith Master hunched forward with his elbows placed on his knee's. "How much do you want to see you're master, Ahsoka?" He purred sadistically. _

_That question caused my body to jump with mobility, "Very much so, sir."_

_That same sickening smile cracked across his face. "Is that so. How about a bargain - or shall we say - a deal?"_

_I was being open minded but chose my words carefully. "What kind of deal?"_

_"You see, Ahsoka. Our type of technology have proven to be useless against the Republican Jedi's, but now that you have given our forces the opportunity to investigate a weak point in their power."_

_"So what you mean is, you want me as a test subject."_

_"Precisely, and in return for you're services I will arrange a reunion for you and you're master."_

_After I began to click the meaning of his offer did I finally give in to him. "Really?"_

_"I Promise."_

_I smiled graciously and felt a single tear caress my cheek. I didn't care though, I was just happy to be given a chance to see my master in time. It was all I wanted. _

_"So do we have a deal, Ahsoka?" The sith asked once more, snapping me out of my thoughts._

_"Yes," I whispered. Not realizing the crime I committed against the Order._

_-*-_

_NO!_ I screamed in my head. I will not allow that, that deal had no purpose as long as that monster was not here. In my confusion, I found myself clenching my head for support, unable to stand the power that piece of memory pained me. In that room the old man had me in a corner, keeping me vulnerable and weak. Just the very sight of him sickened me, nauseating my stomach. I shook my head and breathed evenly to calm my nerves, trying to recollect myself and focus. I took step by step slowly as the lightness went away from my head until I was able to properly jog my way to the prisoner cells. Unfortunately, there were two guards protecting the cell doors, but I pressed on. I jumped in the air and sliced them both in half, watching them tumble to the floor, lifeless. With that distraction out of the way, I stabbed into the control panel carefully until the circuits broke down and additionally unlocked the cell door. I eagerly ran inside before the door could fully open itself up.

There were probably a dozen of cells built in if one took the time to count them all, but I had no time for such a thing and kept looking into each cell carefully.

"Master Plo Koon!" I cried out repeatedly over and over again. "Master Plo Koon!"

I ended at the last cell that was held in by double the amount of security not even a droid could equally secure. But I had a special key, making my efforts minimal. The sounding of the door locking itself with a loud _clink _was brought to my attention, but when there was no one at the entrance I went back to cutting my way through the door. The smell of burning iron filled the air as my lightsaber kept cutting through the metal surface like butter.

_Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump._

That strange noise kept echoing across the room like a soft moan. I tried to ignore it as best as I could, until finally I reached my way through the door and into the room. But there was nothing.

Nothing.

But darkness.

My chance, my only chance to find my master was wasted for nothing. All that effort and work wasted. My betrayal wasted. My master was not here, in fact, and most certainly no where else on the ship, but where though?

Blankly I turned around to the same growing noise, but ended up meeting face to face with the general. His glowing bright yellow eyes twinkled in the darkness, giving him a haunting appearance. I took a step back in surprise, but even that was useless when my neck was pressed down by the general's grip and slapped my stolen lightsaber out of my hands. I began coughing as my throat was squeezed tighter, after awhile my eyes began to roll back until air quickly entered my mouth and allowed oxygen into my lungs, until finally I collapsed to the floor. I coughed more violently this time, dazed and disoriented.

"You little brat!"

A sharp pang stab at my ribs and felt my head hit the wall this time. I got to my knees, and unconsciously glared at the cyborg eye to eye. Each other's glares equally matched. I knew how much trouble I caused for the general and already knew the consequences if my attempts to free my master ended in failure. Desperately I tried to use the force, but in doing so, set off the collar. As the general described, the pain was extremely unbearable that I could only twitch and release a blood curdling scream. The seconds went by agonizingly slow as my spine had to endure wave after wave of voltage. The general did nothing but watch me suffer while cackling with laughter. Finally everything stopped, and I was left on the ground, still twitching uncontrollably.

"How dare you go against me, and to steal one my lightsabers has pushed me too far to let this slide." He roared into my ear, his face close to mine. "Consider this a punishment for you're little goose chase, and be grateful to me for not killing you, or reporting you to my Master."

I gasped as I tried to move my back, then considered it was best for me to just stay still and let my back recover. All of a sudden I was yanked to my feet by the cyborg, giving me more pain to deal with. I pushed him away however and glared at him like before. At the moment the hate was growing inside me, until I realized my mistake and controlled it.

"Why don't you just kill me . . .?" I breathed. "I've went against my deal with you're master, so its only a matter of time before he-"

"What Count Dooku won't know won't hurt him," He quickly countered, catching me off guard.

This time I tried to breathe more carefully, "Why?"

It was his eyes that said it all, whether giving me up or killing would in the end put the general at a bad situation as well. And from how long I have been with this being, it would only be a matter of time before he cracked up from all this stressful quarrels and political issues this galaxy has placed upon his shoulders.

Though I did not show it, I almost pitied him. Almost.

"I will let this one slide, only because you are still of some use to my Master."

"Why won't you just take me on as you're apprentice then," I cried. "Its clear you want to keep me, since you resist to end my life."

"Do not think of yourself so highly, my child. You aren't even at the proper level, even if I did accept you. You wouldn't live long enough through the training." He answered, annoyed by my stubbornness.

"Its better than what I have left now, you have no idea what situation I'm in right now."

"Fine!" Two metal hands grabbed my shoulders roughly and brought me back to my feet once more and pushed the same lightsaber back into my hands. The general took a moment to take a few steps back from where I was, wielding only one lightsaber in his hands this time. "Win and I will allow you to be my apprentice. Lose, and you become my slave."

I nodded and got into stance while ignoring the numbness in my back. This was my chance to stay, or at least for the small amount of time I had. My second chance, I win either way since I still remain under this emortal beings care, but I still wanted to win.

In one swift move, he was in front of me in a flash, I barely parried him away and countered with my own attacks. I stabbed at him along with horizontal slashes. He parried them swiftly, not even having to move from his place. I kept attacking at him again and again with what speed I could create. The cyborg still stayed put, not even a scratch on him.

"Stay focused," He ordered, swinging down with his lightsaber. I rolled to the side, but felt the magnitude when his hand punched into the ground. I took that as to my advantage as I tried to slice off his hand, but ended up getting caught by his free hand. "So quick to attack, even when it is easy to see as a trap." He analyzed, this somehow angering me. I was angry at myself as well, having not realizing it, too. I was caught up in winning, I had forgotten my teachings Master Plo Koon had taught me. It made me feel disgusted of myself.

Suddenly a green light flung in front of me, I stumbled back and parried the many other attacks coming at me.

"I said stay focused!" Grievous reminded.

His lightsaber somehow touched my skin, burning. I screamed and flinched, giving the general the opportunity to snatch my lightsaber away and push me to the ground with his foot. He bent down and gave me a pitiful look, it was all I deserved right now.

"You lose . . . _slave_." He purred, his foot released my torso and allowed to me to get to my knees at least. "You are to be escorted by the medical droids to you're previous room. Stay there until I require you're presence."

But I could not listen to him at the time or when exactly he left, I was still shock over yet another misfortune.

A misfortune I must now obey.

At that very thought, tears poured from my eyes and I was left in the dark to wept alone in sadness.

* * *

Again plz review

Happy Fourth of July everyone!


	4. Chapter 4

**Home Sweet Home?**

-

-

-

"_You lose . . . slave." He purred, his foot released my torso and allowed me to get to my knees at least. "You are to be escorted by the medical droids to you're previous room. Stay there until I require you're presence."_

I went against them and suffered the consequences. As a result, I was lowered to a slave, a sort of standards that now abolishes my past ways. Any lower, and I would have nothing, be nothing. But it did not matter to me anymore, not that at least, not when I lost the person I held in my heart. No matter how pathetic or doltish it seemed.

I slid deeper into my bed sheets in a desperate attempt to shield myself from this cruel world. Childish but affective – in its own little way. Even if that psychopathic, self-centered, gloat-phobic, bastard sent 1000 droids to drag me out. It still won't work.

"Jerk. . .," I murmured into the white sheets. "Calling me a slave. . ."

Thinks he's so high and mighty just because I have to listen to him. And to think he can just call me that stupid name is simply barbaric, _he's_ barbaric. Entirely barbaric. Stupid-head. Rancor-face looking son of a. . . - I hope he goes to hell, I hope he goes to hell and _dies_.

"Jerk. . ."

At first, he seemed alright – until I spent more time with him. Merciless was what defined him in my perspective. Was I afraid – of course I was, who wouldn't be. He knew I was afraid of him, and he enjoyed it, relished it. And to make my life miserable was what he was going for. I cant recall to have come across or done anything to cause him to hate me with such a passion – other than being forced to have to put up with me. But that wasn't my fault, it was that sly old mans fault.

Fine! I don't care about him, all I cared about was my master. He could laugh in my face all he wants but I won't let him get to me.

Not General Grievous.

Something gave a _clink_ and a_ ker-chunk_, it made me jump in fright and slide back into my sheets. Footsteps – more like metal sliding against metal came closer to my plain bed, annoying as it was, I was still immobile. Like a prediction – the sounds of a heart beating evenly came louder and louder as it made its way to my space. I tried to keep myself still, but the irregular breathing was probably giving me away. It moved closer and I knew something was only mere inches away from my face. My heart pounded in my ears as time moved by slowly, until it finally felt like it made an attempt to burst out my chest when something pointy jabbed at my lower side ribs.

"I see you~," he purred into the covers, where I was. "Time to go."

Speak of the devil, literally. I didn't want to go though, all I wanted was to disappear from those beautiful golden eyes.

When I didn't answer Grievous continued. "Move it, we have a schedule to keep."

I popped my head out and saw Grievous had crouched next to the bed – ignoring the chair completely.

"And if I refuse?"

He did not answer, instead took hold of my waist and threw me over his shoulder. I was stunned by his actions. My stomach shivered once pressed against his armor. It gave me goosebumps below my sternum. The thought of where we were going did not cross my mind – I was more worried about my design of clothing and how my skirt was in his view. He was about turn his head – getting me into a panic, and swiftly I shoved his face forward.

"Face forward." I shrieked, frenetic. "Look and I swear I will-"

"What?" He jerked away from my fingers, lost and taken aback by my sudden action.

"Can I please walk!? I have no intentions of escaping right now." I asked politely this time, hopefully getting some mercy out of him – if possible.

"Do not take me so lightly, pup! I suggest you comply to this temporary position until we arrive at my lair, so be silent and obey." He snapped. His voice was growing louder as I continued to speak.

"I won't! I swear it, now please put me down!" I pleaded, waving my arms to gain his attention – no wait! "Face forward!"

"I was not looking that way, tail-head." Grievous rasped. He stopped to a halt, and rubbed his eyes from stress for putting up with my vexation. I didn't care though, only raised my voice as we continued down the halls.

"Yeah well, I don't trust you. Especially someone with a freaky body."

He growled angrily. I felt six sharp nails digging through my skin, then retracted, leaving future bruises in its place. "Insignificant little slime. You should be grateful I haven't ripped that big mouth of yours." He snapped.

"_You_ should be grateful I'm even complying to you're demands."

He chuckled. "Hardly. Do you ever stop talking?"

"Why? Are you beginning to have second thoughts about ripping out my mouth," I taunted, glaring at the back of his head, he felt it.

"As a matter of fact,_ I am_."

"Yippee for you -" I was yanked off his shoulder and was positioned forward, still in his arms. Before my lips could part to protest, my mouth was clamped shut by his cold metal hand. I grabbed at it and tried to scream. The general paid me no heed however, only kept his eyes forward and towards who knows where. My arms went limped and my voice lost, and came to terms it was for the best not to waste my energy on something meaningless – even with him.

There were vulture droids hanging on the ceiling, and B-1 droids guarding specific areas when we entered the main hanger. The droids gave me a wary look as the general passed by, but I gave them a scornful look in return.

One B-1 droid stood next to an unusual prong-shaped starfighter, nothing I've ever seen before. Consisting of two sets of triple rapid-fire laser cannons, not to mention the entire exterior made it itself look indestructible. It was amazing.

The same B-1 guarding the starfighter came forth and saluted to the General before speaking. "You're vessel has been prepared for lift off, General."

"Good. Now get out of my way."

"Yes, sir."

_Only on the weak ones does he give more malice towards_, I thought inwardly.

The claw gripping my mouth released, but found myself being thrown inside one-pilot cockpit. But that was not what I was worried about soon after. Sure being on his shoulder was okay but on his lap had crossed the line. Thats too close, way too close.

"I want out!" I finally announced, getting up.

"If there was a luggage area big enough for me to stuff you in, then I would gladly do it. But we don't get what we want now do we!" He yanked me back. The one-pilot cockpit closed itself in, preventing me from leaving. Defeated, I sat back down on the cyborgs lap, my mouth shut and my arms crossed.

"Stupid, shiny cruiser." I muttered under my breath, throwing my head back into the general's chest accidentally.

Grievous started into a fit of cough by my accidental assault. "Stop moving, its distracting." He coughed.

"I would if you're legs weren't so pointy," I retorted icily.

Under his mask I heard a low growl, but I ignored his useless threat. He didn't speak another word to me, nor look at me as he took flight to the stars. During this insufferable position, I passed the time by fiddling with my headdress. Just touching the headdress, its unique designs, and the beads dangling on the other side of my headtail, caused me to recall

A single cough had broke the curse of the silence – making me jump in place. My face flushed bright red, and turn towards the cyborgs face. He didn't hide the humor in his eyes, much more relaxed then I was.

Furious and embarrassed, I tapped my head on his chest again – this time harder. This caught the general off guard. His hand had slipped away from the control and – without my intentions had derailed the cruiser and span in a 360 degree. The general reached out for the piloting handle, and smoothly steadied the cruiser to its regular course.

My head felt woozy, and my stomach began twisting into a knot. "I think I'm gonna hurl. Ugh"

"No you're not!" I felt a hard slap on the head followed by a quick but painful jump-start up my spine. "Keep this up and you'll end up fried."

"You'd like that. . . wouldn't you." I breathed through clenched teeth, wincing as I sat back properly.

The general snickered, his body movements proved my thoughts true. "Very much so. And I am going to enjoy the day I finally witness you're death at the hands of my lightsabers."

"That won't happen. I did say I can escape."

"Good luck with that," he spoke, sarcastically.

I gave him a dirty look when he wasn't looking and decided to peeked out the side view as a way of ignoring him completely.

All there was to see was a sea of fog right below the cruiser. After awhile the sea began to rise up to the stars. But it wasn't. The fog wasn't rising, we were sinking.

_This is suicide_, I thought. _He's not a psychopath, he's a complete lunatic._

In moments the actual surface of the planet could be seen, along with the huge gap in the middle. A castle, well hidden under the gray rocks, had a landing dock for us to land on.

Thank goodness.

I jumped out of the cruiser soon after we landed, creating a good distance between me and the general. Grievous coughed casually at me and stalked passed me impatiently, he came up to the gates and pressed a secret switch, followed by sounds of gears grinding whispered behind the rocks till the gates finally parted ways and opened. He continued inside with me following before the gates could shut themselves from me. The darkness only grew the more I walked deeper inside, unable to shake off the eerie sense of death lurking in every hall.

A thunderous roar came over the castle as we walked deeper inside. As useless as it was, I took glances at the darkness, trying to depict certain objects hidden in the black. A door, few feet away from the general, opened suddenly. The general was punched by something small yet strong with enough strength to at least force the general to take a step back. When his cape stopped flowing, I tried to get a good look at his small attacker.

It was a droid – no, a medical droid. An EV-series supervisor droid with some modifications implanted to its somewhat humanoid appearance. And it seemed furious. This type of personality was not uncommon, last I heard these models had a programming defect, was it possible it happened to this one too.

"You no good piece of garbage. You expected me to take care of this rotting castle for a whole month – by myself! I should tear out that stupid gut sack of yours, you hear me!"

Definitely.

"You see this." Grievous lifted up his claw and made a pinching gesture, rubbing his thumb and index finger together. "This is the galaxies smallest violin."

"If I had a middle finger right now. . ."

I was left out of the conversation, to my relief. Never have I met anyone stand up to this psychotic general before, it wasn't natural.

"Who's this?" The droid pointed at me then gasped when he took a gander at my collar. I blushed. "Is she a sex slave?"

"WHAT!?" I half-barked. Grievous' left eye twitched in annoyance.

It gasped, showing an extreme amount of emotion. "Oh my, how low for a general such as you're standards."

Grievous gave the medical droid a disappointing look. "You're imagination is unbelievable." He grabbed my head and lifted me up in the air, catching me by surprise. "This is Ahsoka. Yes she's a slave. . . for now." He flashed a claw out before the droid could speak. "Not a sex slave!"

"Oh~" It tried to keep a straight composure, but it was clear it was holding back its amusement.

"She will assist in you're daily cleaning and maintenance. Will that shut you up!?" The general growled, at his breaking point.

The droid shrieked in delight, and the next thing I knew he had me in a headlock/hug. I couldn't breathe.

"Air~" I gasped.

"This has to be the best thing you've ever done for me!" The droid tooted, squeezing the life out of me as he swung me around. "Oh wait – this is the only best thing you've ever done for me."

"My condolences." Again he grabbed my arm and tore me away from the droid. "Any news?"

Immediately the droid returned to a more tolerable manner. "Ah, yes. Ms. Ventress will be arriving shortly. And may I say as so bold that her level of temper is that of a Rancor." It perked up.

"Granted."

Setting myself aside, or rather separating myself from them, it was hard to place whether these two were friends or just on a regular terms. Still it was quite humorous to witness.

"Doctor. Escort the girl to her new accommodations and fill her in on the castle," Grievous ordered firmly before stalking towards the darkness alone, leaving me with the droid.

"Yes, master." The medical droid took my wrist and directed me the opposite of the general. From its frequent giggling, it was in a good mood. " Hello, my name is A-4D – but you may call me Doctor."

"Oh- Okay." I stuttered.

The room from before closed itself off from us, lights I forgot to existed brightened up the hallways for us to walk.

"So." the droid began conversationally. "how do you like the general?"

"Would you like the truth?"

"If you must."

"He's an asshole."

"I see." Its movements gave me the impression it was enjoying my comments.

My eyebrow rose. "You're not going to tell on me are you?"

"Now where's the fun in that. You've been here for at least three minutes and already I'm fond of you. And it seems you're being here has sparked some character in the general, may I say."

"Oh really. Seems the same jerk if you ask me."

The droid chuckled lightly. "You'll get used to it." We walked into a room I was positive was a cell room. "This the cell room. Words of advice, stay out of the generals way or you'll end up in there. Given nothing but suffering."

The cells smelled like rotting carcasses and flesh that weren't even there in the first place. The iron smell crinkled my nose. I took a step back and breathed heavily as I recognized the unsettling atmosphere weigh over my shoulder, suffocating almost.

The medical droid grabbed me by the hand and brought me away from it all, having to have seen my suffering. "Come along now, keep up." He distracted, forcing my mind to forget what had just happened – or what did happen long before I was here. We entered an arena, wide as it is, white lines forming a circle in the center of the perfect black floor, everything was freshly polished, with the exceptions of a few holes punched into the walls. Pieces of metal were piled in one corner, almost reaching the ceiling.

"This is one of the generals most favored rooms, the Arena. This is where he trains." I heard the Doctor announce, but I didn't look at him. My eye's were fixed on the pile of singed scraps laying waste in the corner. He took note on my shock. "Don't worry, I doubt the general would do such a thing to you."

"Really?" I asked in a panic. "You sure the psychotic cyborg won't do that just because I was on the Republican's side. Hmm?"

"Depends on what rank you're on. It's not like you're a Jedi or anything, huh?" He chortled, waving his hand at me amusingly.

I gave him a stern look. He stopped in his tracks.

"Oh."

"Yeah." I slumped to the floor.

The droid came to my side and patted me on the head. "Don't worry. Maybe he'll take it easy on you." I didn't let that small snicker get away.

I glared at him. "Not likely," I hissed through clenched teeth.

The rest of the tour went down smoothly after that. I was introduced to the trophy room. The collection nearly caused me to shriek in fright after I picked up on how many lightsabers were shelved as souvenirs. There was so many, so many I couldn't keep track. Just how powerful was this cyborg? Just by looking at these made it clear in my mind I was obeying nothing but a slaughterer of Jedi.

Finally, the droid entered me into a dark room with hardly any lights – the complete opposite of my original bright room. There was a bed with no sheets ironically, one table, one chair, and one ray of light. The darkness was going to take some time getting use to, but I wasn't complaining. It was better than the one on the ship.

That same, frightening roar echoed into the room again, this time louder – and more angrier.

"Damn it all," growled the droid angrily. "I've fed that damn thing five times already, how much more can that spoiled thing eat?"

"Who?" I asked,confused

"Gor, my masters pet."

"A pet?" I was thoroughly stunned. "What are we talking about? A dog? A cat?"

"More adorable than a simple dog. A Roggwart."

"A what?"

The droid picked up something from the table I forgot to notice. "Don't worry, you'll meet him soon enough." A set of clothes were thrown at my face. "The general has requested you to wear more. . . proper clothing."

"You're kidding me."

"Certainly not."

I sighed. "What happens if I don't accept."

"The consequences will be – as the general said – severe."

I lifted up the clothes towards the light and examined the clothes more carefully. The droid left me alone to redress myself, and I hated every part of it. I have to admit, it all fit. The gray tunic covered everything but my shoulders and the nape of my neck. The black boots fitted the same height as my old battered boots. The black knee pants were okay.

The droid came in when I was done. "So~ you like?"

"It's perfect." I smiled half-heartedly.

The droid was more relaxed by the news. "Thank goodness. I had a lot of trouble with you're measurements. I'm a caretaker, not a designer."

"Yeah. I was hoping it wouldn't reveal this though." I tipped the collar.

"My master gave me strict orders . . ." It had trouble with it words, thinking about if it should continue to speak. But taking a quick glance at me, it continued. "Not to do that."

"Of course not." I breathed.

"Now, we must leave. I have other matters to attend to, but master has asked for you're presence as soon as possible."

I was flooded with shock. Before I could protest, the droid had already forced out the room and towards who knows where.

* * *

Grievous flipped back his cape, allowing it to drape to the ground and left it there until it's purpose was needed again. With only an hour left before Grievous would check in for his routinely operation, Grievous spent every second with heed. He sat himself on the chair and began stabbing at the control keys connected to the Holocron, searching for the certain transmission. It took awhile until he finally found the one he's been searching for and quickly transmitted to it.

Even when she was small, Ventress' avatar managed to deem itself as intimidating as the original.

"Ventress." Grievous hissed. "My patience is running thin. There better be a positive reason for you're delay."

"Change of plans," she spoke in a soft voice, her facial features covered under a Sith hood as always. "Count Dooku informed minutes before you're transmission that he wishes for me not to assist you for reasons unknown."

That bastard. "That bastard," Grievous muttered lowly under his mask.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing. Can you perhaps have a change of mind."

"Grievous I'm tired and in need of some rest. And my master has already given me orders to-"

"I could care less for what the Sith master has to say. I'm asking you for a favor, something – I'm sure you're aware of – is considerably rare."

"I have, but you must understand in that thick head of yours you caught me at a bad time, as well as my master."

"Granted, but that does not mean you can't just change you're absurd schedule just for you're master."

She sighed, her eyes holding restraint. "He's you're master, too. And I doubt you would want a _reminder _of that fact."

Grievous inwardly flinched from that reminder, but hid his fear flawlessly. "I'm well aware of that."

"My apologies for you're misfortune," she apologized truthfully. Grievous tossed it aside, however. It did not even spark a light in his dead heart. "End transmission." The blue avatar disappeared into the Holocron modified into his control room.

In the mean time, Grievous was brooding over the fact that he could not take care of his situation – now having turning to the worse. This did not surprising him, in fact – more like expecting it almost. It was his type of luck that reassured him of such a fate. And in the end, it proved true.

The sounds of mumbling came into Grievous' sensitive hearing range. The secret door hiding his personal room opened.

* * *

The doors locked after I was pushed through. Scratching and kicking didn't seem like a bad idea at the time, but I knew it was childish and the General would give me hell to pay. In his own sick little way.

"Who is it?" that familiar voice demanded harshly.

I jumped in place – just like his voice always made me. Having forgotten how to speak, I instead came towards him slowly, cautiously.

"Its me." Who else could it be.

"I can see that," He retorted. A skeletal mask came out of the darkness, thus surprising me. "It didn't come to my mind you would actually comply to you're changes." It sounded like there was a hint of humor in his voice once he took note on my change of clothing.

I rolled my eyes. "What do you want, Grievous?"

"Thats _Master_! And you better get used to that," he corrected sharply. "Besides, I just wanted to see how pitiful you would look." I was pulled in front of his seat, very close to his face. Humanly, he was amused by my suffering – seeing right through my relentless charade. He began to trace along the nape of my neck, giving me shivers. "You're more pitiful than I could ever imagine." A cold hand brushed against my right head-tail, but I jerked away. I didn't let this cyborg have his fun.

"If you're trying to make yourself terrifying then its not working. I've been through worse." I lied as best as I could, even when I was being caressed by a killer cyborg. He saw though.

"Lieing won't get you anywhere."

"Then what do you suppose I do then."

The general lifted himself from his seat, hovering over me. I backed away from him as far as I could, and yet my back had already reached where the controls were. Panic started taking over, I was beginning to breathe unevenly. His demonic face was merely inches from mine.

"Obey my every whim." his voice purred.

I was left gasping for air and at the point of falling on my own two feet as the general took a step back from me. Pleased by my reaction, Grievous paced towards the other room after beckoning me to follow. I did so. From behind, and even now, he was terrifying. But I've seen other terrifying and probably more uglier creatures before him and I have never been frightened by none, so why him? It wasn't because of the power he held, nor how he made himself to be. All of it left me to questions.

"Why are you doing this to me, Grievous?" I asked another simple question.

Grievous had adverted his attention away from me, fiddling with a lightsaber I'm sure he did not make himself. "Clearly, I just don't like you, slave."

"I mean _why _do you hate me?" My patience was dissipating, and I wasn't in the mood anymore. "Last time I checked, I've done nothing to you." Other than being you forced slave.

"Instead of asking me questions, you should be working." Changing the subject was getting him nowhere. I was suspecting it was best not to know though, still, I'll get my answer one way or another. If he's going to hate me, I at least want a reason for why.

The awkward silence was coming back again, and I was thinking he had forgotten I existed.

He didn't. "You're still here." It wasn't a question.

"Um-um. . . Do you want me to leave?"

The claw's grip on the lightsaber was squeezed, I felt the atmosphere fall. "These constant meaningless questions are whithering my patience, _Slave_."

"Fine." I screamed at him, furious. He wasn't phased. "If you want to be alone in this stupid darkness then its fine by me. I'm going to work." I stomped out of the room finally, and keeping to my word, leaving that cyborg to himself. It was what he wanted, but when I looked over my shoulder to glare at him, his eyes revealed sorrow. My feet stopped after that had registered. When the doors closed itself off between the two us, I had a small feeling of regret.

- -

My eyes blinked reflexively, returning the moisture to my ocean blue eyes. I found myself curled in a ball, my entire body fitting perfecting in one of the hallway corners. At times this was the only way to help diminish the stress on my shoulders. My mind couldn't handle this sort of reality, nor bear such changes. Changes that happened in a matter of two minutes.

A-4D – or Doctor, exited one of the numerous rooms in the hallways, carrying many types of cleaning equipment in his arms. I bit my lip, fighting back the temptations to turn on my heels and hide. Cleaning was like a strange new language I could not comprehend for the life of me.

"Here you go." The Doctor handed me all the equipment. My feet began losing balance, almost causing me to fall on the floor. But, thankfully, I didn't. "These are all the tools you will need to keep this decrepit castle clean as a whistle. I have a feeling you're going to have a lot of fun."

"Oh joy. How fun it would be to _clean,_" I spoke sarcastically.

Doctor ignored that and continued. "Alas, be happy, little one. Better this than a fate worse than death."

"I'll ignore that and pretend it's another one of you're hilarious comments."

The droid chuckled softly before speaking once more."Come with me."

I nodded and followed the medical droid into a room. There were two life-like statues of a warrior who's race I could not distinguish. It was a male, reptilian-like, muscular, and above all, intimidating. The warrior looked awfully familiar, too familiar, actually. It frightened me a bit. But, then again, what didn't in this bizarre castle.

I got closer to it and adjusted my eyes to commit it to my memory. It was fascinating, just like the stars.

A mop smacked me in the face, hard. My hands took hold of the wooden mop and flung it the other way. Laughter came from behind.

"Keep on you're toes, slave." Doctor giggled playfully. "There always something lurking in every corner." Another wave of growls sounded the hallways on cue. "Including Gor."

"Fascinating," I acknowledged dryly.

Doctor bent down and grabbed a bucket full of soap water, shoving it into my arms and waltzed towards the doors. "This is one of the many rooms you will be mopping."

I groaned, the left side of my head felt woozy. And I was pretty sure my face was turning pale.

"Are you alright?"

"I don't think so."

"You'll live. Chop chop now, the faster you finish this one, the sooner you finish all of you're chores."

"At least there's an upside."

The droid chuckled at that and left the room. Leaving me to clean in privacy.

There was no other options, I just gave up on this part and did as I was told. I cleaned every speck every room could create for me. In the mechanical circuitry of Doctors mind, everything had to be spotless. Throughout all of this cleaning, my muscles would often give in and force me to the ground as if gravity had punched me into the earth, and yet, I would lay down on my back to take a small breather and wait till my arms lost feeling continued where I started. I went from mopping the room and hallways to dusting the statues and buffing Grievous' personal cruiser. But that was not the worst of it, oh no. Gor, apparently the general's living, breathing, and real pet, was a monster, much like its master. I tried to play nicely with it, only to be growled and snapped at by its white sharp fangs. It was horrible.

_Everything_ here was horrible.

When I finally made it to the safety of my mattress bed when the horror finally ended, it was like my bones went numb when my skin touched the softness. I sighed deeply, taking it all in. Every muscle and veins, right down to the last blood cell, made me feel like I never had a body to begin with.

_Maybe this is how Grievous feels,_ I questioned in thought. Who knows, maybe.

Through a fit of anger, I flung the mattress across the room and violently tore at the collar around my neck. This unusual fit of anger came out of nowhere from my heart, it was beyond my control. When I finally controlled myself, everything that had just happened came in blurry images. I took deep, even gasps, slowing my heart rate. I sat down in the middle of the room, curling up into a ball to keep myself together and to keep my anger at bay.

The entire galaxy was against me. Even when I had done nothing to deserve such ill treatment.

I shivered and readjusted my tunic for better comfort, again and again until I was fed up with the cold and returned to the mattress. It did little work.

If the general doesn't kill me, then surely the cold will. Strangely, I giggled softly at the thought. Depending on the circumstance, I wouldn't be surprise if the general finished me off first. That look in his eyes always burned anger when I come near him. I didn't worry about it too hard though. After all, he meant nothing to me, just another obstacle getting in my way of finding my true master.

Wait a minute. . .

It is possible I could. . . overcome that annoying obstacle. Giving it some thought, and realizing the amount of security around here, I'd say the chances of escaping and stealing the cruiser is good. And, if luck is still on my side, I could decipher the correct coordinates to finding the Sith, Count Dooku. Perhaps I could appeal to his better nature, surely.

That said, I got to my feet and ran out the trashed room.

* * *

"_If you want to be alone in this stupid darkness then its fine by me. . ."_

Despicable child. If only she grasp the fact on how much Grievous had to deal with. How much responsibility was placed over his shoulders. Even back then, it was the same.

A warrior. A proud warrior, and fierce. Bringing goodness to his people and misery towards the ones who dare threaten them. Grievous remembered those days. When he was feared by those who dared challenged him and his power. A power graced to him by his gods. A power he was not afraid to unleash. That is until that day. . .

Most of what had happened during that day remained clear in the general's organic mind. And it still haunted him.

Even to this day, it would always find its way from the back of his mind and remind him how he came to be this.

Grievous fell back into his seat, resting both his eyes and mind from the control room. Stressing over the weight over his shoulders, Grievous could find no alternative to avoiding his duties and getting some rest. And seeing how his master has taken away any possibilities, the cyborg had no choice but to return to the fronts.

He enjoyed his job – relished it. But even a cyborg was in need of some rest – not sleep, but to be away from it all to rest his mind and sharpen his concentration.

But the Count thought otherwise.

It was out of his power to deny the Counts wishes any longer.

Not anymore.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

The bothersome alarm sounded throughout the control room, both alerting the general and giving him a headache. Swiftly, he jabbed at the correct key. A camera darted in front of the general's mask, revealing the child has left her room.

"Already she is becoming nettlesome," He thought out loud, bored. Though congratulated himself for thinking about the collar first.

"Aw~" came a sadistic voice not too far away from the cyborgs hearing range. But he knew who it was. It was his doctor. Many times, he wondered why he never scrapped him like the rest of the other mindless trash, but that was just it, Doctor was not mindless. Rather he was more like Grievous himself. Sadistic and cold hearted even before he came into the generals possession. How this droid ended up in the Federation's hands had always left him to wonder. But he didn't think of it too hard, it was pointless to think such things. Grievous turned his head and eyed his only medical droid come to his side, watching the camera attentively. "How cute, she thinks she can get away."

"Instruct my elite to stand down after they lock the gates." Grievous ordered his droid.

Doctor looked at the general now, "You do not wish for her to instead freeze to death. My readings show of a good chance of her inability to last even five minutes out there."

"No," Grievous acknowledged. "It's more fun to do things by yourself than to have others do the dirty work for you at times."

A-4D raised up his hand comically. "I think otherwise."

Grievous left his seat and allowed the Doctor in his place. "Take over. I'm going to have a little fun."

Doctor began setting the camera's for the future quarrel and adjusted the seat to its liking. "I know there is no need for a reminder, but I'm curious. Is the reason for going after her is to secretly avoid my monthly check-up."

"Doctor," Grievous muttered lowly. "You know I would never."

"You hypocrite. _Lieing gets you nowhere_."

* * *

Without a second thought, I leaped out of the corner and darted to the gates. Suddenly the floor disappeared at my feet, but my head-tails alerted me before-hand. I jumped as high as my feet could take me, and, luckily, managed to get my hands to grasp onto the other side. I lifted myself up and stayed on course.

I didn't care if my escape became known. I didn't care if he came after me. Getting out of here was all that rang over and over in my mind.

I was too determined to let him stop me.

Another trap activated, but again, I foresaw it and jumped over the pit – this time, filled with melted carbonite by the smell of it. Ignoring the burn in my legs, I kept going. The beating of my heart ringed in my ears and throughout my body, beating faster in every step.

_Keep going, _I ordered myself._ Keep going._

The expanding iron gates, equipped with over five titanium-crafted locks – possibly more. Compared to the most highly sophisticated bank vault, this was more heavily armed.

_Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. _

My eyes darted towards the source, and sure enough the general was standing there, between me and the gates. But my speed didn't falter, I already have intentions of head-butting if it came to it. Grievous' held out a rod and ignited it. It seems he wasn't going to use the collar, all he wanted a good show.

Fine.

I pushed against my left leg and under the blue light going for my lower torso. The blue light came again. And this time I placed both my hands over my head and backflipped to my feet. I was sure of my actions and kept my movements at perfect momentum.

Grievous snarled, his eyes twinkling with bloodlust. All my resistance and reflexes had clearly roused his instincts, all I did was offer him a challenge.

He took a step forward and stabbed at me in the head. I bent my back backwards to dodge the stab and toppled to my side. Again he proceed to lift his mechanical claw-like foot and stomp on me. I saw his attack first and rolled to my feet.

What I did after that would probably be considered one of the most idiotic ideas I would have thought. I pushed against the balls of my feet and pounced the general, and unlike A-4D, pushed the general all the way to the floor. A horrible crack whispered deep inside his mask, but I didn't think of it too hard. He was out of the way and that was exactly what I was going for. I stood up and went after the door.

My right leg disobeyed and stayed put, however, and I fell to the ground hard on my stomach. I gasped in pain and reached for my leg. Grievous had grabbed my leg before I could reach the gates and pulled towards him. Desperately I kicked him with my new boots, hoping to get a good shot at his face.

But it was over in a matter of minutes when one of Grievous' claws grabbed my other leg and held me down. My back was pressed against the wall and my feet a good couple of meters in the air. I bit and scratched at the duranium white claw. My side felt the full force of the ground, again and again. When everything came to a stop, I reached out for freedom and tried to pull myself away from my attacker. The collar of my tunic was pulled up, forcing me to my knee's. Again, my eyes came in contact with the familiar set of golden yellow eyes. Something trickled down my cheek, and I had a feeling it wasn't sweat.

"I always knew you were just another annoyance, but now I've come to realize you're just an idiot."

"And I've come to realize you're just another asshole who takes pleasure in tormenting others just to make yourself feel good," I countered smoothly, glaring at him as I spoke. Despite in my dazed condition.

"You disrespectful little. . ." In his eyes, he grew angry and slammed me hard into the wall again, the wind knocked out of me. He snarled ferociously.

"Why don't you just end my life- " I gasped, my vision began to blur, and my lungs slowly losing oxygen. "Saves you the trouble."

"No." He raised his claw and touched my cheek, wiping away the blood stains. "I would rather watch you live on in pain than end you're suffering." The vice-grip claw released its hold, and I fell to the floor, coughing my lungs out. "Where exactly were you thinking of going when you escaped?"

I wobbled to my knees again, and faced the general once more. "To Count Dooku, and ask him for my master's safety. I'm sure you have the coordinates to his current location hidden in that cruiser of yours."

Grievous chuckled hysterically, darkly. "Unbelievable." He grabbed my free shoulder and dragged me away. I didn't look up. I felt like a mischievous child being caught in the action, it was embarrassing. The voice in my lungs lost, making it difficult for me to beg for mercy or future pain I'm sure the general had in store for me.

I gulped and tried to speak. "Are. . . you going to punish me?"

"Of course I am."

We turned a left on a corner. The hallways became more noticeable, and I finally realized where we were going.

"_Words of advice, stay out of the generals way or you'll end up in there. Given nothing but suffering."_

No

Not there.

"P-please. . ."

"Silence!" Grievous snarled. He snapped his fingers and automatically my spine was being pumped with unbearable voltage. I fell to the floor and screamed.

"Stop it." I screamed, begging. I shriveled and shook violently, being watched by a sadistic general. He enjoyed every second of it.

It went on this time, it didn't stop. I wanted it to stop. I wanted the pain to go away.

Grievous threw me inside a cell room, and then finally disarmed the collar. My body felt like jelly and continued to shake uncontrollably, I gasped in pain but did not give Grievous the pleasure of seeing me cry this time.

While I tried to control myself, Grievous locked the cell door with one of the keys. Regaining control in my body, I sighed slowly.

Grievous sat down next to my cell and watched me. "How does it feel to be caged like an animal, _slave_. "

Dazed and disoriented, I forced myself to try to concentrate on his words. My gasps and heavy breathing was the only sounds able to come out of my mouth. I no longer had the strength to talk at the moment. With what I could manage, I gave him a small weak glare.

He smirked. "You know, I'm thinking about allowing you to stay here for a week."

My eyes hardened.

"Perhaps," he paused to see if he had my attention, and when he did he continued. "If you agree to something I had in mind, I might trim the deadline to a three day term."

I furrowed my brows, and gave him a confused expression. "A bet?"

"Yes."

"What kind?" I breathed heavily, narrowing my eyes.

"Very simple. As previous, you will attempt to escape through the south exit." He began. "You're attempts are limited to three however. Each attempt failed will cost you a punishment, one more horrible after the other." This was like shining opportunity for me.

"How. . . do I win?" I asked soon after.

"You win if you can make to the outside, once outside I will leave a cruiser with the proper co-ordinates to my master."

"And if I lose?"

"Lose." He took a moment to chortle darkly. ". . . and you will cease further attempts to free you're precious master or escape from here."

I gave it some thought, this was probably the best chance I could get out of this. Ignoring the exceptions of the bet being orchestrated by Grievous himself, I actually wanted to agree to his game.

A claw flashed in front of my face to shake.

"Do we have a deal?" He purred melodically.

I reached out for the hand, but hesitated. I wasn't sure of his motives. What was he playing at?

"Why are you doing this?"

Grievous face stayed firm, knowing as if I was going to ask him that question. "Simple. You're just too fun to mess with, my little slave."

I sneered at him, resisting the urge to hiss at him. But I knew that was what he wanted.

"And you'll keep to you're word."

"Of course."

I bit my lip, and hesitantly shook his hand.

"Good luck, my slave."

* * *

Plz review.

Lots of reviews inspire me.

Ty.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chance **

Three days had passed by quickly and without delay, to Grievous' eyes that is. He could have left the little ingrate in there for the rest of her life, he could. But what joy would that bring to the general's sick pleasure when he had all the time in the world to shred her sanity piece by piece in a slow fashion, that would suit more for her kind. "Republican Dog," He had muttered every few whenever he would inspect the brat in her cell. Still in her same mouldy corner, the child had awaited for the day she would be freed. When he did, she was less than grateful. He would have enjoyed punishing her for being unappreciative towards his mercy. In the end, he sent her to her personal cell to cool off before he sent her off for more cleaning duties. The words he had spoken of three days still rocked in his mind, questioning his actions as a way in disgust and against his nature. Grievous, too, questioned whether he was going soft on the miniscule or rather a sense of pity had taken over. Bah! Hardly. He would have said to such a barbaric idea, he'll show these pathetic dogs kindness when Gor miraculously learns how to fly and when the Republicans pay for the misery he bared witness too.

Count Dooku, the very Sith Grievous has been tying to contact in over a week had been given no answer or evidence of his existence. It was becoming unsettling since the very start of this all, Grievous has been given a break from the war – something he thought pointless, and unnecessary – and began thinking if the Count was forcing Grievous to actually mentor the brat himself. Grievous would have gagged. From the beginning he had wanted a break from the war to rest his mentality, but it was turning . . . disturbing.

The door created two knocks on its steel-built exterior, to which, snapping Grievous' unsettled mentality back to the world of reality. When Grievous made no attempt to answer, the knocks repeated soon after more violently and impatiently.

One last bang on the door finished it all, but the person didn't leave.

"I know you're in there, master! Admit me!"

Grievous grunted in disagreement, unintentionally revealing his location in the process. His eye twitched when he heard the sounds of the animation of gears and contraptions performing as his medical droid began to tamper with the passage doorway to open. A-4D came forth with a sense of annoyance enveloping his current stance. The General continued where he left off to his duties of configuring plots, ignoring the droid completely. He just didn't want to deal with the droid, he was already galling him. A new record for the both of them.

Neither knew the unsettling silence as A-4D permitted himself rudely, though neither acknowledged it, speak to each other, or so much as moved from their positions during that moment. When the droid began to slump its shoulders, turning calmer, Grievous' cautious instincts settled.

"Why must you shun me out, Master? Do you not appreciate the luxury of my presence?"

Grievous couldn't help but chuckle at the mere thought of even liking the retched sadistic droid.

The droid fumed. "I'm being serious!" It cried, pouting like a spoiled child.

"Doctor, you're becoming unpleasant," Grievous warned, removing his eyes from the screen and turned to the droid. "Please remove yourself if you are proven to be unable to control you're peculiar circuitry."

That comment made the droid furious with embarrassment – an odd feature for a droid to express – and threw something rather pointy at the general. Grievous did not go on a frenzy at the droids act, instead, he sighed tiresomely.

"That's not the point master! I'm here because I need to administer you're monthly check-up, not to annoy."

Grievous huffed. "That _is_ annoying."

"Not unless I say it is."

"It is."

"No it's not."

"It is."

"No it's not!"

"Yes, _it is_!"

"No, _its not_!"

"Leave already, you nettlesome scrap pile."

"Take the blasted treatment and I will."

"Never!"

"You're unbelievable!"

"I would rather be dead than be treated by you!"

"You're so cruel, master. . ." A-4D pretended to sob with such emotion that it would have fooled anyone, except Grievous, who gave the droid a narrowed, bored look.

"Fine, I'll leave," it finally said in defeat.

"Finally!" Grievous hyped, turning away at last. But the sounds of sliding doors did not occur. The cyborg groaned. "What?"

A-4D didn't turn around, or make his motives known as it was protected by the pure blackness of the shadows, it stood there, next to the passageway, immobile. Grievous was growing more impatient, and he couldn't stand for this droids stubbornness any longer. He was about to send his droid a final command, but was intercepted by the droid.

"Why did you do that to the female, master?" The droid asked in mysterious, dark, wonder. "You would have torn her whole mouth off for such ill behaviour, but instead you let her go with _three chances_. Now that's against you're principles all together."

"You're point?" Grievous rasped, unsettled by the droid, and annoyed that it noticed the general's sudden change in principles.

"_My point_ is that you're going soft on this one, may I ask why?"

That was a good question. Why, exactly? Grievous placed his metal head on his comforting chair, lost in thought. He had to admit – though not directly to the pushy droid – that he might possibly harbour a sense of mercy for the child, starting when he had first received her from his master. He couldn't understand why though, for the very concept began to gnaw at his memories, seeking for the answer as if it were already there.

"I . . . don't know. . . "Grievous admitted in a soft spoken voice, his claws unconsciously clenching as the mental pain began to sink in and he could feel the past weighing him down. He blinked, and refreshed.

All of the sudden, the chair had somehow given in to the generals weight and pulled him to the center of the second room, his wrists bound by steel restraints.

He growled, "Doctor!?"

"Stop you're fussing, you're only making this more difficult to determine where I should administer my treatment," said A-4D, tapping at its built-in syringe fill with silver liquid. "You wouldn't want me to miss, do you?"

The general grew silent and still as the syringe came closer to the gut sack carrying his internal organs. The Doctor giggled in sick pleasure and proceeded.

* * *

Three days in those mold-covered cells was incredibly horrendous, and inevitable to escape the odour either. Words cannot describe the unique odour lurking in every corner of the cells; so intoxicating that I was at my limits of puking there and now. Thankfully I was out and made an oath to never go near there again.

Having been sent to my newly refurbished room – after having demolished it previously, I sat myself on my bed, my mind losing ideas on how to keep myself occupied. And then, to my greatest disgust, that appalling odour had mysteriously followed her all the way to my room. But it went worse. I dropped my head and sniffed my tunic, swiftly recoiled and pinched my tanned nose shut, the horns on my head tingled with displeasure. "Oh no. It's on me!" I cried in distress and tore off my tunic, throwing it at the door.

The door opened and A-4D became my tunic's next victim. A-4D stood there for a short, awkward moment before dropping the tunic to the floor and placed a white plate with a sandwich and apple on the table nearest to my bed.

"Everyone here isn't giving me that much consideration anymore," A-4D sighed sadly, "or perhaps my internal circuitry has a malfunction," he finally claimed.

"Sorry," I immediately apologized, "It's just that my clothes reek of sewage and dead carcass."

A-4D picked up the odour leaking tunic and tossed it out of the room for good. Now all I had left was a black top that left my shoulders uncovered and bare.

The smell of food instantly caught my senses, hunger and nutrition came back to mind and I remembered the need for food and ignored the coldness cascading down my shoulders. My mouth began to drool with unquenchable hunger. Snatching the sandwich, I began to devour it whole, not a single crumb spilled. A-4D watched with amusement.

"My my, forgive me for forgetting that you fleshies require organic food," A-4D admitted shamefully. "It's been awhile since I've had any guests."

"Is that so? That's . . . depressing," I said, munching away on my lunch.

The droid nodded in agreement, "Indeed. I mean – master _does_ get guests here and there – can you believe that!"

No, I honestly say I can't.

"Anyways," he continued, "Other than the Counts rare visits, there are other acquaintances that come and stay for a day or two."

One of my eyebrows rose from that announcement. It was all hard to believe. "Other acquaintance? Are you referring to the tattooed Rattataki woman from before?"

"Ah, Ms. Asajj Ventress," The droid had corrected. "No. But those two's relationships . . . is hard to distinguish. I can't even tell if they want to kill each other even when they work together. Isn't it fascinating?"

"For you it is," I pointed out with a cracked smile.

"Yes well, once you are finished – which I'm sure won't take long – we must carry on with our cleaning duties."

I nearly coughed up my sandwich. "There's still more!?"

"This darkened sanctuary isn't going to stay clean forever."

I mumbled something unintelligible and finished the last of my sandwich before lifting myself off the comforts of my bed and followed the EV droid towards our next assignment. The usual was me being given the job of mopping and dusting, two of which I detested the most, and be ditched by the doctor. But I was certain it took pleasure in forcing me to do the hard work.

Mopping gifted me excruciating sores in my legs, back, and arms all awhile I mopped in a circular motion on the smooth floor. I kept this rhythm constant as I trailed down the dusty hallways. After I finished the first hallway the other twenty-five hallways were also mopped until I was done and ventured into the Shrine Room. My forehead began to crease with cool moisture; I whipped it away with my free hand while the other was dusting up the many statues of the same strange warrior in the Shrine Room. I took a step back to check my progress. There were still dust-bunnies on the statues face, much to my dismay. I sighed in aggravation, imagining a stern medical droid chastising me for laziness if I didn't completely dust them all off.

"I should be paid for this," I grumbled, narrowly climbing up the warriors arm with ease. Once I was able sit myself on his shoulder, I began to dust off his face. A couple of brushes later I stopped and took a long, good look at the statues face to check for missed spots, but was so overwhelmed by his peculiar face that I couldn't help but take a gander at his facial features.

Reptilian eyes, smooth skin, and sharp tusks and mandibles. I've never seen these features before, it left me to question what race this man was. It wasn't just the face that had caught my attention, but it was those carved-in eyes. So beautiful, hypnotizing, and raving mad eyes. I was completely lost in them.

In fact, they resembled-

A mop full of soap water swung at me, but luckily, I had heard the whirring of the mechanical alloy limbs waltzing inside the statue room and foresaw the attack in time.

"Nice try, Doctor." I sneered.

A-4D snatched the mop away and looked up at me, concerned. "What are you doing up there?"

"Dusting."

"That's a funny way of doing it," the droid spoke. It took a step back for me to jump and land next to him, but, as usual, I fall ungracefully on the floor butt-first. A-4D cackled and held its chest. "Wow. Now if only master could have seen that."

"Shut up," I whined, flailing my arms at him with anger.

A-4D caught both my arms easily and pulled me to my feet and took the duster out of my hands.

I patted my dirty butt clean. "Where were you? You're supposed to be helping me."

"Actually, I was hoping to find my master while I was away. He managed to slip away from his," I was presented a piece of metal. ". . . Bindings on my first try, and I was hoping that I could have found him again."

"Is it that painful?"

"I don't know. Never tried, never will," He tugged me out of the room and walked down the freshly cleaned hallways with me by his side. "My master despises the treatments completely and, comically, flees."

I giggled.

Suddenly A-4D grew considerably frustrated, and embarrassed. "Oh shoot, I forgot something important back in the Control Room. Ahsoka, could you go fetch it for me? It's a white bottle."

I sighed. "Fine, but you better do you're work when I get back!" I threatened with a harsh look.

He promised, but it didn't feel that honest. I still did it though, running down the hallways, and somehow falling on my own two feet thanks to the freshly washed flooring. But even after the whole ordeal, I was able to make it to the Control Room in one piece.

I looked around the chair, figuring it might be there, but it wasn't. I looked everywhere from floors to holo-projectors, till the last place I hadn't checked was the shelves filled with personal trinkets the general must have favoured the most, and still none had the damn bottle.

I was about to lose hope when I finally realized where I was. I was in the Control Room, all alone, and the cyborg was no where to be seen. It was too good to be true. Just to be safe I gave the area a second survey before confirming that I was the only one here. Plopping myself into the oversized seat, I began to tamper with the controls, starting with complete and total lockdown of the entire perimeter.

And I made sure every door was locked.

* * *

Grievous had stayed put in the arena, occupying himself by honing his skills. During his time in hiding, the general practiced numerous forms in lightsaber combat. Two of his most lethal MG-magnaguards came at him using Form 1 Shii-Cho, sending their weapons for his head, right arm and torso. But, by carefully watching the MG's duplicate such a raw form was completely disastrous; the general was going to have to re-train them more severely after this combat practice. Swiftly, Grievous parried both attacks with his own two, and then attacked more fiercely, rotating his wrists, and disarming his opponent's weapons from their mechanical appendages without difficulty. The general was about to lecture their flaws until the medical droid came in on him. He nearly shuddered.

"Master, what a spectacular show. Congratulations."

The guards bowed their heads respectfully towards the general before leaving the arena.

Grievous returned to the center and re-ignited his lightsabers, attacking at the air with devastating blows. He stopped once, and then came again. Stopped, and again.

"Keep training, and you're body will suffer."

"My body is functioning perfectly, my reflexes are precise, and my attacks were exact," Grievous persisted ignorantly.

Around the corner of his eye the general could see the droid shake its head and cross its arms.

"What is it, Doctor? And it had better be important," Grievous rasped.

"You know why I'm here."

"Caretaking."

"No. I'm here to give you you're blasted treatment. Take it so that I can find peace."

"No. . ."

"You're as ignorant as that bloody pet of yours," the droid began to rant, and the generals right eye was starting to twitch ever so slightly.

"Shouldn't you be keeping an eye on my slave?"

"How can I when right now I have something far more of importance to tend to."

"Poor, simple, servant droid," Grievous sympathized, adding his own move for a creative counter.

"You know what I think!-"

Without warning, the sliding door closed and the security alarms turned on. Everything had gone off; leaving the general to wonder what was the purpose for the whole misunderstanding. He stalked towards the door with the intentions of finding out until he heard a faint click and recognized that the doors locked itself. Grievous finally grasped the fact that the lock-down had been initiated. And he could think of one person who would do such a thing.

"Damn her."

"Come again, master."

Recalling the droid standing next to him, a shed of luck was coming to Grievous.

"Doctor, hack into the system of the Security-mainframe and disarm the Lock-down immediately," he ordered.

The medical droid did as it was told without a fuss. A single interface arm inserted into the control pad at the doors side, rotating in a circular motion, A-4D remained immobile until it perked its head up.

"I can't somehow. I'm afraid the Togruta has managed to put up a firewall from allowing me to scan."

Grievous growled. "Impossible?"

"Apparently not. The girl is quite gifted with computer hacking. Impressive."

"Don't admire that brat," Grievous snapped. And yet he knew he was partly to blame for leaving the Control Room unguarded in his time of hiding. "I shouldn't have left that Control Room."

"If you had taken the treatment, this wouldn't have occurred," the droid chimed in joy.

How could it be happy? The general had no time for the droids personality disorder and came at the door with his lightsaber, cutting a large enough hole for him to go through before kicking the carved chunk out. He leaped out and bolted.

"She's heading towards the south exit, if you're wondering!"

Grievous managed to hear what the droid was saying before quickening his pace after the girl. He wasn't going to let her go that easily.

* * *

Everything was set. Hacking into the mainframe was a piece of cake, not even a challenge for me. I got up, making sure everything was set one last time, and ran towards the south exit.

Turning a corner I saw two MG-magnaguards come in my direction. I ducked around the corner, barely keeping out of the guard's sensor eyes. I began to huff, not realizing my lungs were on fire from how fast I was running. I slowly looked over the corner and saw that they had gone the other direction, so I continued towards the opposite, taking a detour from the south exit.

I had almost made it when I felt a ripple in the force. I leaped to the side and saw a guard swipe at my leg, missing by an inch when I recoiled away and very close to cutting my headtail off. How could I have been so oblivious that one of the guards was tailing after me.

The droid lifted its electro staff and came at me with a swing. I back flipped and kicked the guard at its uncovered torso. It caught my boot and held me there; I tried to shake it off but could not.

"Let go!" I cried, jumping in place with one foot. The guard kept its grip strong, never letting go. Desperately I tried to shake off its hold, but decided to shake off my boot, and shivered as my foot touched the coolness of the floor.

I broke into a combat stance, without thinking of the advantages I took my chances.

It came again and tried to keep up with my dodges and flimsy punches. With its free hand, it would try to snatch one of my fists in hopes of capturing, but I was far too slippery to be captured. Thanks to what little connection I had left with the force, and with my sensible headtails, I kept alert and foresaw its attacks and moves. And when an opening came, I lunged at it, grabbed its staff and rotated it so that it hit the guards head square in the face. Purple electricity surged throughout its body, sparks flew in the air, and the droid fell dead.

I took a step back to be cautious, and with confirmation, I turned on my heel towards the gates. I stopped in my tracks, and saw the cyborg, Grievous, standing right in front of the gate. But how though?

"H-how?"

He tipped a lightsaber at his waist. Darn. And just when I was certain of a future success. Without thinking I retreated and ran.

"Get back here!" Was his command, and my body almost gave in to his control, I nearly stopped in my tracks before snapping back to my normal self and press on.

Then my entire body flew back as my arms were pulled behind my back, a pain began coursing up my shoulders and shoulder blades. I winced in pain as he pulled on one of my headtails, forcing me to look up at him. My headdress beads swayed and tacked between the two of us, being the only sound as we locked eye contact. The only thing I kept looking at were those raging yellow pair of eyes.

Grievous pushed me forward, causing me to land on the floor. I rolled on my back and looked back at him.

"That makes one attempt, you know," the general spoke.

I glared. "I was close."

"Not really."

I got to my feet slowly, never taking my eyes away from his. And I knew what was to come. "So what's the punishment?"

"Since it's you're first one, I'll _try_ to be merciful," Grievous told me, pinching the tip of his mask to think about the consequence. When he finally decided, he bent down to my level. His eyes softened a bit, humorous. "I'm taking away you're food for three days."

My jaw dropped. "For three days?!"

"Correct."

"I'll starve."

"That's the point, smartass," he smirked under his white mask, flicked at my forehead – close to my headdress - then turned away as A-4D, accompanied by a guard walked from behind me across the expanding hallway. "Take the slave to her room for the rest of the evening. She is to be given no food for three whole days."

"Yes, master." A-4D grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the general's gaze. I glared at him one final time before turning my back to him. It was the guard who escorted me to my room. A-4D stood by Grievous as the darkness engulfed them both and I could no longer see him. My eyes began to burn, and I rubbed my eyes to keep from tearing.

I hate him.

* * *

He watched her walked right into the darkness before looking down his happy-go-lucky droid. His eyes narrowed, and he couldn't shake an uncomfortable feeling.

"What?"

The droid began to chuckle. "How unfortunate," it giggled.

Grievous, having become impatient once more, would have nothing of it. The droid had been annoying since he released the girl, and Grievous was at his breaking point. He could find another medical, there are plenty out there in the galaxy. Grievous whirled his head towards the droid angrily, wanting nothing more than for the droid to be silenced.

"What's wrong with you?" He demanded.

The droid stopped its guffaws and looked straight at the general, getting too close for comfort with the general.

"I hate it when my patients disobey me, you know?" he stated venomously, his voice twisted and sadistic. "This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't disobeyed me, master."

Grievous' eyes widened a bit, never has he seen this deranged side of the droid. So the rumours about the EV series violent behaviours were true, this one was just as defected as the rest of the units. He hunched over the droid, becoming furious with the droids actions.

"You little. . ."

"I feel a sense of pity, however," the droid mumbled, ignoring the general's rage on purpose. ". . . For using Ahsoka like that. Too bad she wasted one of her chances, neh?"

"You're a twisted little droid."

"And you're a barbaric being, but I still respect you're morals," A-4D retorted. "And besides I was sort of delighted in tricking her into going in there."

Finishing what he had to say, the droid, too, walked straight into the black darkness. Leaving the general to himself, Grievous coughed before looking up at the bolted down gates. Lifting up his claw, he touched the features of the gate, trailing down the curves and bumps.

So close. . .

* * *

**The next Day**

The sounds of growling – similar to Gor's – echoed the hallways as I dusted the walls. I gripped at my stomach and tried to keep it at bay. It wouldn't listen, and, too weary to deal with it, ignored it with all my willpower. But I groaned softly, falling to my knees and curling into a ball. I was so hungry.

"You done yet?"

"I'm doing the best that I can," I cried, grouchy from the loss of nutrition.

The medical droid came to my side and helped me to my feet gingerly. I held my stomach from falling, my insides were wrenching in a painful fashion.

The beads at the end of my headdress stuck to my sweaty headtails, I felt so light-headed even when I was heating up.

"You don't look so good."

"I'm hungry!" I screamed, my throat dry from lack of water. I needed a drink. "Can I at least have a drink?"

"You may. Finish dusting this section and I will lead you to the kitchen."

"Thank you," I croaked dryly, willing myself to dust the rest of the halls and followed the caretaking droid to the kitchen, ignoring the fact that this place had a kitchen to begin with. I never thought of it.

The kitchen was sparkling clean; it was obvious it was rarely used. There wasn't a food stain to be seen.

"How often do you use this place?" I asked, marvelling at all the unique, expensive utensils.

"Not enough."

Within a couple of minutes, A-4D came forth with a full glass of water. I nearly drank the whole glass in one gulp, coughing in the process.

"Thanks," I gasped, breathing in my refreshed lungs.

"As long as you're able to clean, I'm more than obliged to offer a hand."

I gave it a frown. "That's reassuring."

The ceiling quivered and shook as the echoes of a certain growl continued, rattling all the utilities dangling in the ceiling. And I was starting to get a headache.

"So when do we go feed Gor?" I persisted.

"Awe you miss him already?"

"No! I-I-Its just that feeding Gor is the last chore on the list."

"Why in such a hurry when it's obvious you have nothing to do instead being stuck in you're own room. I will not tolerate another Grievous in my domain and I will do anything to keep it to the minimum of one, thank you."

"You know, you talk too much for a mere droid," I perked up.

A loud screech sounded the corridors, making us both quicken our pace out the kitchen and towards the arena. A-4D entered a room not too far from Gor's arena, and the foulest air reached my nose as the droid opened it wide. Inside had the largest stock of meat I would ever see in a lifetime. A-4D gave me a smelly armful. Unable to bear the smell, I pushed through the doors, and threw the steak in the air. I only had a second to blink before I got the wind knocked out of me, being soaked in a red rough color. Gor scooped up the steak in its mouth and swallowed it whole without even chewing then continued to soak me with warm saliva.

I lashed out and pulled myself out of the Roggwarts overweight body, shaking from the horrible contact. "I say we go in there and stick a knot in his stomach. You have to admit it's a good idea."

"It is, but Master wouldn't approve."

"Blasts," I cursed, shaking off the dripping saliva.

"Gor is a beast. He'll go on a rampage if not fed properly, I promise you that."

"Is that so," I thought out loud. Then it was like a light bulb had flickered in my mind in an instant. Two things clicked into my head, and it would only work if I did it now. How it occurred clustered my mind, but I understood what needed to be done.

A-4D took me aside and placed more steak for Gor to eat. I jumped to my feet and hugged A-4D tightly, catching the medical droid off guard and unbenounced to him, sticking a piece of meat over A-4D's back.

"You are the best caretaker in the galaxy," I commented with a bubbly accent.

A-4D, uncomfortable by the close contact, tried to push me away. "Are you . . . okay?"

I jumped up and took a step back, with a sly expression. "Yup. You have a nice day." I flipped around and skipped away. My scheme coming into action.

With the doctors back turned, I waved my hands in the air to gain Gor's attention and beckoned him towards the steak sticking behind the doctor. Gor bared its fangs, ready to pounce, and in one push, ambushed A-4D. The doctor whirled his head and saw Gor charging at him and ran as fast as his little legs could take him, with Gor hot on his trail. He wailed and screamed and called for help, but I could not, now was my chance to run.

Not a moment too soon did the sirens ring and by that time I was already gone.

* * *

The sirens were going off in red fans, to Grievous it was like actual red floating lightsabers flying around. But that was just his imagination getting the best of him.

Placing his duranium claw over his eyes, Grievous shadowed away from the blaring lights and deactivated them via from the red button next to his main control system. Grievous has been expecting for the girl to make her escape, took her long enough. The displays was brought to his full attention, examined by the general carefully until he found his only doctor being chased by a ravenous Gor.

Grievous sighed for his doctor's foolishness, but deep down, thought of smiling for how the doctor allowed himself to be manipulated so easily. The cyborg chuckled to himself. Pure Karma.

The secret passage to his door felt the full fury of unending pounding, as was Grievous' tired head. The cyborg sauntered to the door and opened the door, only to slam it shut again in a flash.

"Let me in!"

"Go away," Grievous growled.

A-4D didn't go away and kept banging on the door. "I beg of you master. I am in need of dire assistance, Gor's gone savage!"

Grievous thought to himself and chose his options carefully, wishing for there to be an option for him to simply ignore the doctor's pleas and let him be devoured by his pet. But he couldn't. He was his only doctor, and much more suitable to him than any other.

He opened the door and re-closed it, facing both a panicking medical droid and a hungry Roggwart, wagging its tail.

Helplessly, A-4D turned his back at Gor and tried to run for it again, catching Grievous' eye. Behind his back was a slice of meat.

Grievous had to think quickly. In one long stride, Grievous intercepted the Roggwart from its target. Unlike those many times, Gor continued to charge, ignoring the general's interception, which became his downfall. Grievous raised his arms and clutched at the Roggwarts curved horns, he could feel himself being pushed slowly back, close to where his trusty medical droid was. He was at his limits and could already feel his legs giving in, but blocked the pain out and absorbed all of his energy into the balls of his claw-feet. Gor thrusted forward in an attempt to move his master aside, but Grievous did not waver. Grievous pushed forward and finally pushed Gor against the wall. Gor did nothing after that.

Grievous plucked the steak off of his medical droids back and threw to his pets awaiting jaws. Instead of chewing, the creature swallowed it whole.

Grievous patted the Roggwarts plated back. "You need to go on a diet, Gor."

"Hey!" A-4D screamed, waving his hands around for attention. "I'm the victim here!"

Grievous shrugged. But he wasn't entirely distracted; he still had a certain Togruta to deal with. The cyborg general gave A-4D a cold and deadly glare, his eyes stern and angered. "Where is she?"

* * *

My breathing quickened as I ran like hell down the many hallways of Grievous' castle. Hopefully Gor bought me some time. I had to say, Gor went rampaging crazier than I had anticipated – which was good.

The sirens had gone off within seconds after I was half-way down the south exit. I could foresee an army of MG-magna guards waiting for my arrival.

My prediction was correct when an armed guard came round the corner. With what little options I had left, I turned to the closest room I could get in.

I pulled the door open and saw the horrifically overpopulated shelves booked with lightsabers. I cringed from it all and could faintly sense the heavy atmosphere weighing over me like a heavy blanket. I was about ready to scream, and whimper at the loss, but I shook it off and quickly snatched at least 4 lightsabers and hid them inside the safety of my sash while I stored about an armful of lightsabers in a spare meat plastic beg I managed to steal. I had a feeling I was going to need a lot of these in case things become worse.

Just as I predicted, the south exit was completely swarmed with MG-Magna Guards by the time I got there, all wielding deadly electro staffs. All of them were formed in a tactful pattern, meaning the general is already hot on my trail. That and he's probably more pissed off I could ever imagined.

I stepped out of hiding and faced what could be an entire fleet of MG-Magnaguards, two lightsabers ignited. I had to admit, though not out loud, that wielding two lightsabers has been proven rather difficult for most beginners such as me, even for council members, or so I've heard, even I don't know a Jedi council member's full potential in both the force and lightsaber combat. But this was not the time to brainstorm right now.

Without the use of the force – thanks to this stupid collar latched around my neck, my power is limited, but right now I'm not counting the odds.

I bent my knees and pushed myself into the air, landing not-so-gracefully in the middle of the guards. I fought them all swiftly and as gracefully I could mimic. I swung horizontally and slashed across at least one guards in half. I punched them, tripped them, and decapitated them, anything to keep them from standing up. Others put up a far more of a fight than most of the others could ever do. But that only made me more focused and on my toes. Barely another two down and it only made more come at me and some more resilient. But by that time, I was beginning to catch my breath, and almost toppling over. I tried to keep up with most them, but they came at me one after another, like a true group of well trained warriors. More and more came, yet I kept my ground. A couple of time, they would easily slap my lightsabers out of my hands, but I inwardly thanked myself for bring more with me for safe keeping. But I had a feeling I should have brought more, I only had five more left while the others were scattered and recovered by the MG-Guards and taken to their previous shelves.

It felt like a century of fighting head-on with the highly trained droids, until there was only one left standing. While its right hand and a chunk of its side ribs were severed, I on the other hand had almost zero energy and only one lightsaber left.

In unison, we both dashed at each other. To surprise him, I side-stepped and stabbed at him, but the droid foresaw my move and deflected it with a horizontal twist. I raised my lightsaber and slashed across the droids chest, barely singing the staff of the electro staff. But the droid didn't falter and came at me faster. I stood on one leg and kicked at him with the other, but that became my downfall. The droid crouched and kicked my free leg and forced me to the ground. I hit the back of my head on the cold floor, and for a moment, tugging me towards unconsciousness.

As the guard was about to deliver the final blow, I rose up and pressed the blades hilt where the droid could only be activated or deactivated from, with a flip of the switch the lightsaber burned bright blue of light energy through the droids chest. The guard jerked and twitched in its movements before coming to peace and lifeless. I pushed it off of me and to its side, out of breath and in dire need of some rest. But I could not give up now, a faint but recognizable picture of my master with his protective arms held out wide for me kept me going.

Suddenly the sounds of clapping came from over my head. I weakly turned my head and saw that the general had watched the whole thing play out, and judging by his comfortable stance, I surmised he was entertained.

I tried to get up, but fell from the lack of strength. No. Not now.

Grievous sauntered over me in a hunchback posture, a sort of posture I have never seen before.

"My, my," He began. "To defeat 9 newly built MG-Magnaguard droids is truly . . . entertaining."

My eyes hardened from that announcement, was it really 9? I counted over 13. Unless some of them knew how to reassemble themselves.

I tried to get up, but felt a claw grasp onto my back and push me back down. His golden reptilian eyes went from amused to ferocious. I would have trembled in fear, but instead I whimpered, giving the general the satisfaction of watching me cower before him.

"You used my pet, Gor, for you're own desires. Knowing that he belonged to me and can be used _only_ by me." His words were becoming more vehement as his talons-like feet wrapped around my body, squeezing especially around my entire ribcage. "And then you steal not one – but twelve of my trophies-"

"They didn't belong to you in the first place!" I cried out, but was immediately pushed deeper into the ground. I gasped for air and tried desperately to unhook his inhumanely strong claws from squishing me further.

"Don't you ever talk back to me!"

"Fuck you!"

At that, Grievous retracted his free hand into a fist and was about to punch me square in the face before controlling his actions and self rage. He lowered his arm, but didn't release his fists.

"You're lucky my master wants you alive," I heard him hiss. He circled me like some sort of beast as he tapped at a communicator he held in the palm of his hand. When he spoke again, it became hard to interpret what he was muttering or speaking to. I kept staring at him weakly, awaiting for the second punishment.

"Hurry," he rasped. He looked down at my weakened form, tapping me with the tip of his talon-foot. I moaned, pained by the touch. He must have hit a bruise.

The darkness crept up along my back, caressing me with cold touches, masking itself as the true terror. I shivered and rolled over, wondering what was taking him so long to punish me. I just wanted to get it over with, the sooner the better.

Then, somehow, the darkness moved, and EV-A-4D appeared from its abyss. It looked down at me and helped me to my feet, and hauled me away from the general and the gate to freedom.

* * *

She was on the ground stirring here and there, ready to fall into slumber as Grievous observed her carefully. He nudged a bit to get a decent response – a remark, he was strangely hoping for – and received in turn a soft moan of discomfort.

He bent down to lecture her, until he recalled the headdress affixed to her forehead. He immediately recognized it being carved from the teeth of the Akul species. Grievous was well acquainted with the Togrutan religion and ceremonies. But to be given such an honourable headdress at a young age clearly stated her level of skill in her race's heritage. Then he saw the beads sprawled on the floor. He prodded with them, felt them, and memorized them. His eyes took a closer look, until something from the back of his memories struck him violently.

_The dry leaves of the oaken trees swayed, and the tall grass moved like the blue ocean itself, the wind pushing the grass in a rhythmic motion. _

_A woman, elegant, mystical as she was as holy as the gods, stood in the very middle, mending with nature and following the tall grass' dance with the wind. Her pale lips formed a small smile as she swayed, her arms spread wide for the feel. Her bare, dirtied feet felt the cool refreshing surface of the soil, the only moist soil way far of from the village she immigrated to. She moved her arms, following the wind as it moaned with a strong chilling passion, all awhile, she danced, her marble tanned face shined by the suns intensive rays, hot as it was, she did not heed. The beads adorned to her headdress, which stuck to the top of her forehead, splitting into three, ending between the bridge of where the eyebrows could be. A blue gem was embedded at the larger portion in the center of her golden headdress, the beads that could reach to the end of her waist, attempted to follow the wind and the leaves. _

_Her blue eyes revealed themselves after a long, internal bonding with the earth, looking at the small boy before her. _

_She held out her hand. _

_"Sheelal . . ."_

Grievous snatched at his helmet and scratched at it feverishly, and the pain began to remember the past. With his left hand, Grievous placed his hand at his chest plate, over his heart, breathing uneasily and coming to a fit of coughs.

It was those beads.

Footsteps started his way, and A-4D appeared by his side, sly as he was. Yet Grievous could not answer or acknowledge the droid, he was lost in deep thought.

"Master. . ."

He couldn't bring himself to move his mechanical limbs, nor speak as functionally. And then all he could hear was a wail of the dead, and a numbing ringing.

"Master?!"

Grievous blinked, coming to. He looked down at the droid before him and recognized him as his servant droid. He regained his composer and stood firmly. The droid looked up to him with confusion, wondering for his master's safety. Grievous guarded himself from the droids gaze and created authority in his voice.

"Take her to her room. No treatment will be given to her as her second punishment. Remove her from my sight." He ordered, turning away at the scene and down the hallways. At the moment, he didn't want to be disturbed. Something inside him was aching his heart, and he didn't know what the cause was.

* * *

My world turned upside down as I was placed in the confinements of my room. Cold was all I could feel from around me, comforting me in a sort of way, and then I was placed on my mattress bed. I didn't move or speak, just laid there.

Sensing that I was not alone, I kept still. A sharp finger poked my left shoulder blade with my back turned to the person. My eyelids shuddered and opened to see A-4D was left alone with me.

The droid looked down to me with a stern, and angered look. He crossed his arms and spoke, "That was a dirty trick."

I thought about apologizing to the droid for using him, yet I felt like I wasn't suppose to, that I was suppose to hate him for some odd reason. I obeyed and said nothing in return, then turned my back towards the medical droid and tried to get some rest.

A-4D sighed to my back and spoke before he left me to rest.

"Tomorrow I promise you will clean this entire castle top to bottom without rest, which is _my_ punishment for you," He hissed.

I frowned at his announcement and curled up in a ball for comfort. Everything was silent as I was left alone to brood over my loss. I tried sleeping to see if it would help to get rid of the stress and sadness, and it worked. A dark scenery was what I saw when my eyes closed from the dim light. It didn't faze me to see it all again, it's the only thing I've been able to see since the time I've been here.

My subconscious began to remember the past. I remembered the loneliness, the cold, and the abandonment when I was left to fend for myself. And when I remembered Master Plo Koon, I felt secure and welcomed for the first time in my life. And then out of nowhere, a cold breeze swiped me away from his arms, and then from behind, _he_ was there. The one who kidnapped me from my happiness. Grievous. He looked down on me with pity, proceeded to grab my throat and lift me in the air. Shackles wrapped around my neck, arms, and legs, with the chains being held by the cyborg. He held me closer to his mask, and then, the wind began to scream.

"You're mine."

I snapped my eyes open and gasped for air, my face sweaty and my body breathing abnormally. Damn. Every time I tried to sleep I would always get a terrible nightmare, or perhaps a vision, it was all so vivid, and yet I couldn't tell the difference between reality and imagination when the darkness came after me and reminded me of my misfortune.

What time was it? I thought to myself. I looked around and remembered there was nothing to let me know what the time was. I guessed the night has finally come.

A cool breeze crawled down my back. Over my bed was a single vent, allowing clean oxygen to enter my room and giving it a below 0 temperature. I moved away from it and tried to keep warm by wrapping my arms around my chest. It was so cold, and my body was shaking feverishly.

And then, my brain grew an idea.

The vents.

They were my next escape.

It was only a matter of time before that bossy medical droid will come in and check on me at midnight, so I thought quickly. I stood on both of my stiff feet on the bed and began to unscrew the bolts locking the vent's cover in place. It didn't take long, though my fingers were sore when I finished. I tore the cover away and crawled inside; ignoring the stings my bruises gave in to.

* * *

Grievous stalked aimlessly around the hallways through the evening, near the Main hanger by the time the moon covered the sunlight, until resting at the Shrine Room when the moon completely covered the planet at night time. His mind at lost.

Something was happening to him. All because of that peculiar trinket that slave always adorns herself with. He never paid it any mind because, well, he never paid attention to what the little Togruta would wear. If she wore war-paint he was certain he wouldn't notice.

That headdress sparked a memory in his subconscious; something he knew has stained an impact on his past life, his mortal life. He wasn't sure why, or how, but he knew it had to do with the beads. But for verification, he would need to see them closer.

Grievous readjusted himself in his seat. With a polished lightsaber in his right hand, Grievous used his free hand to turn on the com-link upgraded into his medical droid. He moved closer so that his built-in vocabulator was close to the speaker.

He cleared his throat, having not been using his voice during his solitude, and spoke, "Doctor. Bring the slave before me immediately."

The response came earlier than expected. "Yes, master," the speaker buzzed.

Satisfied, Grievous fell back in his seat, trying to relax for a future argument. He was certain the slave wasn't going to give in to his demands so easily, as stubborn and dim-witted as she was. If, however, things get out of hand, he will use force. Most likely he will though, on account that the entire ruckus the brat has created has worn down the cyborgs body and he feared he could no longer control his outbursts if she angered him again. If he could anymore, he would have slept from exhaustion from the whole ordeal.

The speaker beeped repeatedly until Grievous tapped the switch for communication.

"Master!?" cried the droid, sounding distressed.

"What is it, Doctor?"

"The slave has escaped again."

Grievous nearly jumped out of his seat. "What!?"

* * *

I crawled on all fours through the vents, it was like a maze. I coughed a couple of times whenever the dust would enter my lungs. Rooms amongst rooms I passed, some I recognized and some I don't. One of them seemed the most intriguing when I saw three lightsabers placed perfectly on a long-extending, silver plated table with a brightened top that it gave the lightsabers a godly shine.

Readjusting my collar, I removed the vents cover and dropped to the floor. When I looked around I regretted it. It was the same room where all the lightsabers are kept. This was all out of plan; I didn't expect to come back here anymore. Unwillingly I stepped towards the shelves and grabbed at least one lightsaber. Just one, I thought. As long as I crawl through the vents, I'll be undetected, so all I really needed was one lightsaber.

I jumped back up inside the vents and continued on where I left off. The gate was guarded by at one Magnaguard this time when I reached the south exit, it was only one – and thank goodness not 9. I climbed out and jumped on top of it, igniting my lightsaber, and slicing it in half. The smell of burnt circuitry was overpowering, sizzling as the red light in the guards eyes began to fade and I turned towards the gate. I stabbed at the gate and started a curved line.

* * *

He didn't give the door any time to open by itself, and ripped it open himself. He stalked inside and saw that the vent had been removed and the girl was nowhere to be seen. The general scowled for not realizing how simple it was for her to escape.

A-4D giggled, "How sneaky."

"Silence."

Grievous thought to himself in silence. He only sent the girl away for rest of the evening, who knew how long ago she escaped, or even in the castle to begin with. He growled angrily from frustration and punched a hole in the wall.

"Perhaps it would have been better if you didn't make that bet with her, master. It's becoming unhealthy."

"I reap for the future when she'll fall to me!" Grievous hissed.

"Yes," A-4D assured softly, "but first you need to catch her."

But Grievous knew that already. He was already heading the south direction, beckoning two guards to follow, and a lightsaber at hand.

The slave was carving a circle and was trying to push it through; it was all very pathetic and sad to look at. She was too involved in her work that she didn't notice the general stopping in his tracks a few feet away from where she stood. Grievous threw his lightsaber at her direction, purposely missing. The Togruta fell back and whirled her head around to look to him in horror.

Grievous smiled to himself. "Rushing things aren't we."

"Just like you!" the slave retorted icily.

Grievous scowled and took a step back, permitting his guards to attack.

They flung their staffs down on her. She saw it coming and dodged out of the way, rolling and stabbing at its sided with the lightsaber. The second one caught her wrist from behind, squeezing her arm to finally let go of her stolen lightsaber and kept her there as she screamed and squirmed.

"Unlike the many other guards you've slaughtered, these two are more lethal. Not even a Jedi council member could defeat them." Grievous informed her whether or not she paid his words any mind at all.

She growled and continued to tear away from the guard's grip, until Grievous regarded the droid to finally release. They obeyed without complaint and released. The girl, still gasping for air, rose and charged at the general head on, unarmed. Grievous caught her in time, holding her back as she tried to push him back.

Finally fed up with her persistence, Grievous growled, "That's enough," before flinging her into the wall. She yelped and fell, and tried to get back up. Grievous held her there with his right foot.

"Enough with this annoying persistency. You've lost!"

She stopped in her tracks, apparently not taking it well, and continued to scream. "No!"

"Admit defeat!" Grievous rasped, pressing her against the floor.

She didn't though, and he could see tears falling down her face. Her tears turned to whimpers and for a moment he couldn't understand what she was mumbling. The general still kept her in place, uncertain about her current state of mind.

"You lost, and as we agreed, you will cease you're relentless escapes and become a proper slave," he finally told her, releasing her at last.

He turned to walk away from the scene. Suddenly, Ahsoka jolted up and stole an electro staff from the nearest guard and attacked him from behind with tear filled eyes. She was too slow, even for a padawan who should at least hold some degree of agility. He felt for the stolen lightsaber with his talon-like foot and kicked it up for him to use. He slashed down, but his fierce attack was parried by her move. She ran at him, shifted to the side and slashed at his lower legs. Grievous whirled his lightsaber in a counter clock-wise direction and forced her back. She brought her arms up to regain her balance, which became her downfall. He saw the opening and took it, knocking her electro-staff out of her hands, punching her with his fist, creating a sickening crack coming from her ribcage. She screamed and fell to the familiar floor. He pressed his foot over her head, ready to crush it with one move. He wanted to do it badly, to kill her now and be rid of her once and for all. Oh, he wished he could. But what saved her cranium from turning flat was her unique hypnotizing headdress that caught his eyes in time. Already fallen unconscious from his previous attack, Ahsoka tipped her head to the side, breathing unevenly and horribly.

Grievous bent down and snatched her headdress from her forehead. He held it next to the dim light and examined how ever close he wanted.

_Finally_, he thought darkly. Basking with the headdress, he felt complete somehow. As if something was right next to him, keeping his aching heart from tearing inside out.

A-4D arrived right on time, as he always did. It bent down and examined the unconscious girl at its knees and shook its head.

"Scanners indicate you've broken some of her ribs, master."

Grievous didn't pay mind to his words; he kept fidgeting with the beads. Her third punishment and final punishment will be this. . . He tucked away the headdress within the safety of his cape, never to be seen again. She will never see it again, for it is his now to keep.

"How cruel. To take something that precious with ruin her, you know," The droid spoke in an amused manner, giggling softly to itself just by the idea Grievous presumed.

Grievous narrowed his eyes and moved his cape over his shoulders. "It is merely her final punishment. I must do what is necessary to break her."

"And you are doing a fantastic job, may I say." The droid lied, pointing at the damaged done to the gate. "I'll have that fixed right after I have the girl treated."

Grievous nodded and turned, his cape followed in suit.

"Master, by the way, you have a transmission from Count Dooku. He wishes to speak to you alone."

Eyes widened with surprise, Grievous was at last able to make contact with his master. He hurried to the control room and pressed the transmission to run as soon as he got there.

A small hologram of the human being appeared over the holocam, a emotionless face gifting the general in recognition.

"General, I assume the child was no trouble."

Grievous growled, relaxing in his seat as he spoke casually to his master.

The count gave him a stern look. "I hope you haven't killed her yet, she is a necessary subject in our most important experiments for our future victory in this endless war."

"I understand completely, my lord," Grievous answered respectfully.

"Very well." After being satisfied the Count pressed on. "I have an assignment for you. And it relates to the CIS federation industries."

"What?" Grievous barked. "Are they not satisfied with what they managed to pillage. I care not for their personal quarrels."

Annoyed, Dooku lifted a finger towards Grievous' white mask. "You are not only a general to the Separatists, but a protector of the Federation Clan as well. You will think best not to think otherwise."

Grievous didn't say anymore. That outburst was from a recent quarrel of his own, having to do with his annoying slave, and he mistakenly let it out on his master. And he just couldn't handle another fight with his own master. Nor the strength to outwit him.

"You assignment is to take part in a CIS meeting held in Neimoidia. I need you to take my place during my time away," the holograph instructed.

"I. . . ." Grievous was unsure with the assignment. Usually the Count would never have allowed the general to participate in any of the federation meetings until his anger was in check. Why now? Still the general complied with his master's demands. "I understand, my lord."

"And I want the padawan to accompany you on you're assignment. It will be good experience for her."

Grievous inwardly scowled. He was hoping he would have been given some time away from the brat. All he wanted was to be left alone peacefully without disturbance.

"Leave to Neimoidia tomorrow and make sure you don't kill any of the CIS members. Lord Sidious has insisted the CIS are an important asset."

"You have my word, my lord."

"Good. End transmission."

The hologram receded into the holocam. Grievous fell deeper in his seat, contemplating for the coming future and what it has in stores for him. Gods willing he'll be given a break. But he knew very well his new slave will act out and make him the fool.

Curiously, he switched a projector to view the medical room from behind. The small girl was placed on top of the medical table, her whole stomach wrapped with bandages, unconscious through the procedure.

He heard the chiming of the beads concealed within the pouch of his cape, and when he held them out to see, that same strange woman appeared in his mind.

_"Sheelal."_

He cringed and dropped the headdress to the floor. His heart burned violently, his lungs turning into sand paper, and began to have a coughing fit. Grabbing at his chest plate, Grievous slowly controlled his breathing, and then tucked the headdress under his cape once more.

Perhaps for the moment he will wait till he is ready to face the past locked away in his forgotten memories, it will take time. But why now, why would he be so interested in his past. Or perhaps, it was more than just that. Was it possible he was not only a blood-thirsty warlord, but something else, something he had forgotten, or lost? He didn't know, and whatever it was, it was happening to him now. And it's all because of that retched slave.

Grievous fell deeper in his seat, his right claw unconsciously held the headdress hidden in his cape.

* * *

I apologize for my absence and if anyone is not satisfied with this chapter. Apparently school thinks kids like me have all the free time in the world that they keep piling up projects. I had a stupid bug project to do; luckily I got an A so we're good on one part. The second part is that I hope dearly some of my fans have not given up on me during my disappearance. Again I am sorry for not turning in my next chapter soon enough, but stress has been the only thing I've been feeling lately.

I don't want to sound rude though but I do expect review since – unlike youtube – I do not know how many people read my stories. Reviews notify me if I'm being noticed, and assure me of my success.

Please review

Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukah everyone


	6. Chapter 6

**Meeting at Neimoidia**

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_I sat alone in a meditation chamber with my master, Plo Koon. He looked next to me and smiled under his black Antiox breath mask and I did in turn. Security and happiness was coming back to me, allowing my aching heart to heal after all my suffering and sacrifice. I closed my eyes to take in my happy moment, and for once, enjoyed the meditation session. _

_All of a sudden the lights in the chamber began to dim and die as a cold air swept by me. And right before my very eyes Master Plo Koon had disappeared and Grievous had taken his place. _

_Darkness surrounded me, suffocating, and intoxicating. At first I could not breath, having trouble as the cyborg watched with sick amusement. The cold was becoming unbearable, stinging my flesh and shaking my bones. I could not stand it as I could see my own breath. I looked up to Grievous, and met tempestuously piercing yellow eyes – not the calm and collected golden eyes of a certain survival. He did nothing to help me in my agony, and my heart turned to sand and faded. _

_Grievous bent down to me as the blackness began to restrain me to the ground, and repeated the same words from before:_

_"You're mine."_

_With his final words said, the general turned his back to me, and the blackness pulled me under. I fought back as best as I could, reaching out for a saviour, but, in the end, I did not resurface._

--

I jolted up from the nightmare, my breathing just the same. My heart pounding at a dangerously fast rhythm, and my forehead creasing with cold moisture.

I lead my hand over my chest and breathed, "It was just a dream," and steadied.

I realized that I was not in my room, nor in my crummy old mattress. I was in a medical room, a new scenery to my wake since my previous domain was plain and simple while the medical room had shelves, tools, and other interesting objects to look over. It was empty, neither Roggwart, droid, nor psychopath in sight I was left alone to move freely. A clear glass of cold water was placed at the center of the table to my right; my lungs reacted quickly as the thought sank in.

_Thank goodness_, I thought before bringing the glass to my dry lips and drinking every last drop, taking in the sensational pleasure of the water. I really needed that after what had just happened.

My chest began to pang when I tried to bring myself up, and noticed the bandages wrapping around my ribcage. X-ray pictures sticking to the white board from across revealed that at least two of my ribs have been fractured and have been treated immediately judging by the time printed on the top right corner of the black picture. It was there I realized that it was because of the way Grievous had beaten me yesterday, all because I wouldn't quit. That thought made my heart drop, and remembered the bet I made with Grievous and the deal I agreed to.

I closed my eyes in despair. "No," I croaked, instinctively my hand began massaging the creases on my forehead. I sighed heavily, until what I was feeling for did not appear. My world had stopped there and now, and I desperately touched my forehead over and over and could not feel the bumpy and curvy features my headdress was made to be. Searching around and on top the tables, ignoring the pain in my chest, I could not find my headdress.

A faint but recognizable memory recalled the general touching my forehead before I lost consciousness.

"That Asshole!" I screamed, and started at the door.

A-4D opened the door just as I was about to escape. I halted to a stop, on my tippy-toes when I still had a small amount of velocity in my body. Casually pushing me back from the close contact, A-4D took me back on the table.

"You're usual energy has returned. How is you're chest?" the doctor asked, though lacking the concern a regular doctor should have for his patients.

But I didn't let him off that easily, I moved closer to the medical droid with desperation. Hoping to god that he wouldn't shun me away from what I wanted.

"Where is it?"

"Beg you're pardon?-"

"Where is it?!"

"Please, Ahsoka," A-4D pleaded, guarding himself carefully. "Sit down, you'll cause more damage to you're injuries."

I stopped for a moment to think it over and finally breathed in exhaustion, recalling the wave of agony for every time I moved, and returned to the table as the droid commanded. The droid revealed its mechanical appendages for me to witness for the first time in action, bringing the round lamp from its back, it brought light over my body. A-4D began examining my body, verifying the progress in my recovery for what seemed like forever before pulling the light away.

"No harm done. You will, however, need to take it easy on you're body," Just when A-4D was about to administer replacement bandages, I stopped him.

"Please," I begged him, "Where is he?"

The droid whirred and lowered its mechanical arms before speaking, annoyed by my persistence. "Change into you're new attire and I'll take you to him." He gestured to the folded black clothes on the top shelf. "Master is departing for a mission, and Count Dooku has requested that he take you, too."

I blinked in disbelief. "I'm leaving this place."

"Until the mission is over, yes."

I got up as swiftly as I could, ignoring the droids attempt to slow me down as I changed into my newer clothes in one swift move. The droid had given up when I did not give in to his demands and waited patiently, standing perfectly still like a statue.

I put on the silk black long-sleeved jumpsuit on first, followed by the dark blue cloak that fell over my entire waist and over my elbows. The black boots fitted my feet perfectly, leaving the right amount of space for my toes to relax in; wrapping around the boots with white bandages after and pulling the hoodie-part of the cloak over my head, covering my growing horns and leaving half of my bottom headtails bare. The clothes had also come with a dark-blue scarf as well, yet before I could get a grip on it A-4D snatched it away and told me it was useless for where I will be going. I didn't think too hard on it and finished dressing.

This castle was just infested with darkness and death, and it was making me sick. And now was my chance to get away from it all, maybe even forever if I'm lucky. I also wanted to meet the general as soon as possible. I did agree to the sorts of punishments he had promised, but I didn't foretell that he would go to that extent. If he wasn't so blinded by the anger and frustration he kept bottled inside him, then he would have seen how much my headdress meant to me. After all, parts of the headdress is a family heirloom.

--

The main hanger had been the same as always - but that was just a guess. I have never been in the main hanger at all because I landed on this dark moon was instead on the south platform in the gorge, so it is apparent that this is my first time being in the main hanger. And I must say, it could use a little dusting up - but I didn't want to do it.

In the center of the main hanger was the cruiser that had brought me here in the first place, _The Soulless One_. Scratched and badly burned possibly from its previous journeys, the cruiser was prepped and ready for a future take off.

Grievous came up from behind the cruiser and acknowledged us with a low growl before inspecting his cruiser in case of emergencies. Judging by his facial features, he wasn't pleased with having to take me with him. Truthfully, I didn't care.

A-4D touched my shoulder, "Being you're first time, please do as the general commands and behave."

Like that'll ever happen. I had no intentions of obeying him like the good little slave girl I was supposed to be. All he had against me was this stupid collar. But clear-as-day images of my headdress flashed before my eyes, and my world gloomed.

"He's not going to give me back my headdress. Is he?" I asked.

"Probably not. Behave, Ahsoka." A-4D waved me goodbye and left me alone with the Jedi-butcher.

I wanted to leave this forsaken castle at all costs, but I didn't want to leave with _him_. Anyone, but him. Moving forward was all I could do for now and pray for a fulfilling future. Walking up to the general, I was ready to step up to him and demand for the return of my headdress before our departure. But Grievous turned to me, pointing a single white claw-finger at my face – close to my right eye – and snarled.

"Any rebellion – any at all, and I'll give you a punishment worse than death itself," He threatened. I looked into his raging golden-turned-yellow eyes and could see that he was desperate for me to actually behave for once.

I ignored his threat and began, "Sure, all I want in return is my headdress." I held out my awaiting hand up in his face, mimicking his deadly glare – only to fail miserably.

He growled – or chuckled, I could not tell. He straightened his hunched posture. "The agreement was that you would take the punishment without defiance, the removal of the headdress is one of them."

Anger filled my heart, but I stood firm and controlled my emotions. I took a step forward. "I want it back. _Now_!"

"You agreed to the punishment, now take it with pride. The headdress belongs in my possession as of now, and I have no intentions of returning it."

"Please. . . "

"Plead all you want, it is only annoyance to me."

I dropped my head in despair, my headtails drooping, and could not bring myself to move or form words from my pale lips. His stubbornness and anger had beaten me once more, as it always did since the day I was placed under his care. I hate him.

"Instead of sitting up front with me, you will remain in the back compartment space. It is wide enough for you to fit, and space compatible. You can thank Doctor for the modifications."

I gaped at him in disbelief. "I'm not going in there, let alone fit in it. I refuse!"

First, Grievous growled, irritated by my already stubbornness, until he grabbed me by my dark blue hoodie, me pulling away as best as I could before I was thrown in the compartment. I heard the lid give a clink and knew that he had locked it. Sounds of claws walking on metal began to fade in the distance and I mentally prepared for a take off. The cruiser purred and moved, and I could hear the main Auxiliary thrusters moan to life. True to his words, there was a life support system in the compartment space when the air began to thicken and freeze. It was so cramped, and it didn't look like it was commonly used. I curled up in a ball as the cold covered me, and the darkness filled the space from around.

* * *

"Despicable nuisance," Grievous murmured as he closed the hatch. He was thrilled for not having to put up with the girl for the trip to Neimoidia, and knowing her, she would have made the trip all the more troublesome.

Grievous jumped into the one-pilot seat, the hatch perfunctorily closed as Grievous sat himself comfortably and propelled the main thrusters to roar and took flight. The main hanger's gate opened and permitted the general to exit and leave the gorge hiding the castles opening.

The snow-white clouds covering the third moon of Vassek split open as the Soulless One penetrated through the thick layers of clouds. The window showed pure white, but the nava-computer showed Grievous was heading the right direction. He tacked in the correct co-ordinates to Neimoidia and flew in a secret route to which no Republicans could possibly spot him. Forwards scanners could detect nothing as a threat as Grievous flew his personal cruiser through a trail of meteors, dodging them all with ease and without a scratch. Only a fool would enter this part of the meteors orbit, but Grievous was no fool for he knew the trail very well and had quick reflexes and senses, knowing where exactly the rocks would hit.

The cruiser rolled over a meteor as large as a rancor, and whirled in a 160 degree from coming debris.

Alarmingly, Grievous could hear a thumping from the inside of his cruiser. He checked for any defects his cruiser could have sustained, but it was not the cruiser itself, but the girl. She was punching – or kicking – in the compartment space rapidly. Grievous feared for the worst of what the brat could be inflicting to his personal cruiser. Jerking the two levers steering the cruiser, a loud thump came after. The noise didn't come back and Grievous assumed the little brat got the message. Shortly after it came again, and a growing headache was forming in Grievous' head. He groaned and scratched at the back of his head, falling back in his seat to block out the pounding till it finally stopped. However, the headache just wouldn't go away no matter how much Grievous tried to relax. He reflexively felt the headdress in his cape for comfort, counted the beads and the headache disappeared as if by the power headdress itself. Amusingly, Grievous held out the headdress to see once more as he exited the Meteor Trail cleverly, looking at the shine and uniqueness the headdress had to offer before the general. Every time he would try to remember the origin of the beads, the mystical woman would always reappear. Her race unknown, all he could remember was that she wore the same beads the slave-girl had. But how she managed to scurry into Grievous' mind was beyond him. He had no clue who she was or where she was from.

Fiddling with the beads aimlessly as he steered, Grievous openly allowed the voice to reappear.

_"Sheelal."_

Her voice was alluring, but it was easy to interpret the hidden tribulation. But why would she be sad, when he had done nothing to her, or had he. Did he kill her, or no? His memories served as the answer, but he was not the killer. Adrenaline was pumping through his heart, and he was hypnotically entranced. He wanted more; he wanted to know who she was. He was about to try again until a robotic voice had interrupted his thoughts.

_"This is Captain Vaktim from Area 2-G6, please verify identification and purpose."_

Recalling his surroundings, Grievous had made it safely to the planet of Neimoidia. Grievous moved his mask to the speaker and growled, "I am General Grievous, Supreme Commander of the Droid Armies, and my purpose is my personal matter, boy."

The speaker repeated the murmurs and fear from the other line before the voice came back. _"G-general Grievous, it is an honor to have you visit our humble planet. Please forgive me for pushing for matters you do not wish to discuss."_

Grievous scoffed.

_"You are clear for landing, enjoy you're stay."_

Grievous moved his cruiser into the atmosphere of the planet, passing by on-going ships and cruisers departing from the planet itself. He landed in the main hanger smoothly and gracefully, deactivating his main thrusters and exited the pilot's seat with his cape draping behind him, four lightsabers secretly tucked away for future conflicts.

The main hanger was completely empty. Not a single Neimoidian or droid in sight. It became obvious that the spineless idiots have given Grievous his own hanger for the trip, and didn't want anyone to go near him at all costs. Good. Grievous didn't want to be disturbed by people he didn't want to speak to, he only wanted to do his job has swiftly as possible to appeal to his masters better nature.

Resuming her previous actions, Grievous could hear the main compartment punching from the inside, reminding the general of the existence of the Togruta girl trapped inside. He casually lifted the hatch open and the girl plopped out.

He leaned against the cruiser and looked at the slave. "Did you have fun?" he asked, darkly amused.

"Shut up," she breathed, having gotten out of the large compartment fully, Grievous had unintentionally watched the girl bend down and kiss the dirty floor with happiness. He groaned and walked off as he heard her say, "Land!" cheerfully.

"Must you draw attention towards yourself, you insignificant slave."

Grievous earned himself a meaningless glare, though he gave it no heed, she kept going. "I hate you're flying."

"Then I'll purge you from my cruiser and let the space take you away."

She 'hmphed' in defeat before following after the general like a lost pet. How pathetic.

The center door from afar slid open and two figures entered the main hanger. Grievous relaxed as the two were members of the CIS, both whom Grievous was well acquainted with. They didn't pay the girl standing next to him any mind, to which Grievous was thankful for as he saw her hood covering her face well. The two Confederacy members walking towards the general was Nute Gunray, and his loyal advisor, Rune Haako. Grievous held back a snarl as he saw Gunray give him a distasteful look with those disturbing blood-red eyes.

"Grievous," Gunray regarded with revealing venom, "what a . . . _surprise_ to have you visit us. We were expecting Count Dooku to arrive."

"Dooku is unable to partake in the meeting for now; I am filling in for him."

"How nice. An assignment much more suited for a droid to do for its master," the neimoidian smirked.

Grievous growled at the meaning of the neimoidians words, and as expected the two Confederacy members coward away from the general's rage. The girl at his side, however, giggled softly, unable to hide her humor. Grievous slapped the back of her head out of anger, and heard a soft, "Ow," from under her hood. She rubbed the back of her head tenderly, glaring up to him. Grievous ignored her.

"Be grateful to my master, Gunray. I was told not to kill if you were to object to his orders or become intolerable."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying my claw might _slip ever so slightly_ and rip out that fat throat of yours."

Gunray took a step back and reflexively rose his arm over is face.

Haako had gazed at Ahsoka and examined her clothes and the shiny collar around her neck, then retreated from her and pointed a fat finger at her in fear. Grievous gasped as he took a glance away from Gunray, watching at the Neimoidian shrieked in fear and revealed the Togruta's identity. Damn, thought Grievous, he was sure that he strictly assigned for his medical droid to cover that with a scarf.

"T-t-that's a force-resistance shock collar. You're a. . . Jedi!"

"- A slave," Grievous intercepted, stepping in front of the Togruta teen. "This Togruta is a favored slave of the Count, and I request that you treat her as any other slave."

Ignoring Grievous' words, Haako did not stop shaking and pointed one of his fat green fingers at Ahsoka's direction. "But she's a Jedi."

"Grievous, how dare you endanger us with that Jedi. She'll doom us all."

Grievous snarled at the Neimoidians accusing voice and placed a firm grip on top of the girl's head. He growled, "If I wanted to do that then I would have unleashed her on you the moment we landed."

Haako gasped and took a step back and kept a large enough distance from where Grievous' right claw was resting upon. Grievous could feel the girl give him a dubious face, but Grievous glared her down. Pushing her forwards, Grievous gestured.

"She is no harm right now. Give her an assignment and she will do it without defiance, will you slave?"

She coughed and looked away as a way of saying otherwise But Grievous wasn't going to tolerate any of her foolishness right now. He jerked her to look forward.

"Will you, slave?!" He demanded harshly, adding pressure in his grip.

She winced in pain and nodded.

Seeing the compliance within Ahsoka, the neimoidians settled. Grievous released his grip on her.

Mustering up what was little courage Nute Gunray had left in him, he moved closer to Ahsoka and poked her forehead, gazing at her features. The cyborg saw her grow angry and gestured for her to behave; Ahsoka unwillingly obliged and stood still for the Neimoidian to inspect her, her eyes closed in shame as he did.

"I will have the nearest guard take her to assist the other slaves with household duties."

"That will do." Grievous started down the exotic and lightened halls with the two neimoidians leading him the way. Haako beckoned for a guard and commanded him to take Ahsoka away. Grievous was more than pleased and watched her leave with the guard, pushing her as she tried to look over her shoulder to see him one last time.

Grievous paced behind Haako and Gunray, following the two as they whispered amongst themselves as low as they could. It was futile however, and Grievous could hear every word the two would speak of.

Grievous sighed – not aloud – as he watched the two bickering over money stock marketing.

* * *

I was unable to get away from the guard as he walked after me, keeping his eye on me as I was led to who knows where.

I decided to keep myself occupied by studying the halls and exotic artifacts Neimoidians had. Basically, everything had a trim of gold, the halls crafted to perfection, the floors so clean you could see your own reflection, and the outside had the most luscious sunlight I had seen in a long time. I was so relieved to be able to see the sunlight once more; I had goose bumps as the sunlight would touch my cold bare hand – the only part of my body that wasn't covered.

"Keep moving," the guard spoke harshly, though not as malevolent as the cyborg. He pushed me forward again and this time I almost tripped.

Jerk, I thought to myself. I wanted to beat his face in but I could feel the collar around my neck spark, giving me a slight fright.

We passed high-ranked officials, wearing big hats as they talked amongst themselves about progress with a droid prototype, but I didn't give it that much thought. Every Neimoidian we would pass would have a big, exotic hat on that would look like it could tip over if someone were to poke at it. I almost laughed.

The guard had me turn another corner and witness at least four slaves, three lethan and one Rutian Twi'lek, cleaning the floors with only rags. They were on all fours, a kind of position they were all very uncomfortable with. When I look at how they had to clean floors, it made me think how lucky I was to be able to use a mop and not hand scrub it instead.

"You will assist this group with their chores, do it correctly and you will not be punished."

I nodded and assisted the other slaves with their work, removing my cloak to better help the other girls with the hand scrubbing. The guard was long gone before I could recall him, he was probably bored from watching us work so I couldn't blame him. We cleaned the hallways, dusted some of the priceless – and stolen artifacts from around, and cleaning some of the rooms the castles had. Compared to Grievous' castle, this place was much better. No darkness, no cold, just sunshine and warmth. I could stand being here for awhile, and hoped that whatever the cyborg had to do here would take a long time.

The girls were more than happy to have a helping hand. And I was happy to be able have some good people to talk – not growl or snarl at me.

All of them were bought by Nute Gunray, and provided him with a clean fortress for him to hide. They began to fill my mind with all the treachery and deception the Viceroy played at.

"-Secretly, he's formed with the Confederacy behind the Republicans backs-"

"-He's a coward-"

"-Apparently he's working with a sith lord to overthrow the Republic-"

"-And he's only doing it for the money-"

I nodded at their statements and listened to how well they knew of the Neimoidian. A coward, definitely, and a money grabber no doubt. And to go behind the Republics back is like defiance to democracy. What he was doing was shameful, and I could already think of him as a greedy, spoiled Neimoidian who cares only for himself and none other. But how he refers to Grievous with disrespect has me wondering how brave he was – not that brave I mean. Then I started to wonder why Grievous would take that sort of disrespect without lashing out at him or throwing a collar around his neck. He did growl, but in a refrained way, as if he were trying to keep himself from letting loose. But I knew he couldn't keep himself strained for long and I could already envision the neimoidian's lifeless body at the general's feet.

"You missed a spot," one of the Twi'leks pointed out.

I blinked my eyes wide and flushed. "I'm sorry," I squeaked and re-whiped the long window that reaching up to the roof. Another Twi'lek was re-fixing the draping blinds.

During our time of bonding, the girls taught me how to properly clean the floor by hand. Instead of performing the usual rhythm I was previously instructed – it was better to scrub in a circular motion. And the results proved their theory true, the floor was shinier and had a much better reflection. I was further taught in the ways of properly cleaning, all being hard and difficult.

As we cleaned, some of the richer nobles would torment one of us and make a mockery on our lower class. Here people would watch you and make sure you're punished even if you did the right thing. These girls were lucky enough if they were fed at all, or to be inside the warmth of the Neimoidian castle, otherwise they would be sent into caves to mine.

I followed the girls to return the cleaning utilities until I heard the cyborgs name in the Study Hall. Two neimoidians, both nobles, and the same ones I had passed by earlier with the guard were having a peculiar conversation. I stopped in my tracks and moved closer to the door. Moving inside, I tried to hear what they were talking about.

"Can you believe he's here?"

"No. I honestly say I can't. If he's here, then its obvious Darth Tyrannus is furious with what Gunray or Haako must have done."

"What makes you so sure?"

"They are the only two neimoidians orchestrating with the CIS, and the man behind it all is an intolerable Sith Lord with butchering minions at his disposal. And that maniac cyborg is one of them."

"I reap for when those two finally grow some sense in them and retire from the economic problems forever."

"They'll be killed then."

"For leaving the Confederacy?"

"I'm positive. No one even knows the existence of this diplomatic group except for the people under the members themselves. You think they want any unnecessary witnesses to go around spreading the word of a group going against the Republic."

"No I guess not."

"That's why the Supreme Commander is here. To keep the two members from leaving."

"Oh dear."

The mop I had in my arms dropped to the floor and gave my position away. The two neimoidians looked towards the door, and in my direction.

"Who's there?"

Luck had its way of showing just how much you had left, I had none so when I fell over the door –revealing myself to the two, I was at a lost for words and didn't know how to speak when they came up to me and glared.

"A slave? How dare you disturb us. I'll have you're head, missy, if it's the last thing I do."

I couldn't think, and I couldn't grasp the meaning of his words as I looked up to him with wide eyes, on the floor. The only thing that had protected me was the hood over my forehead, keeping my identity a secret from the two. I just laid there like an idiot and gaped at them like I couldn't understand their language.

"Hey!"

Reflexively I turned around and saw the same Rutian Twi'lek slave help me to my feet. She turned to the two nobles and bowed as low as she could, her long headtails falling over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry masters. Please excuse this ones actions, she is a new slave and still in training," she said, her eyes closed and her hands held in fists.

The Neimoidian was still angry, but calmed down a bit.

"Fine. Take the slave away, her very presence reeks of disgust. And I'll be sure to inform her master of her meddling."

"Yes, master."

The Twi'lek took me away after I remembered how to move again. She sighed in relief and gave me a worried expression before smiling warmly and returning us both with the others in one piece.

* * *

The Meeting consisted with all of the members of the Separatist Council members. The Separatist Council occupied the choice seats: the almost two-dimensionally thin San Hill, Muun chairman of the InterGalactic Banking Clan; the Skakoan foreman of the Techno Union, Wat Tambor, encased in the cumbersome pressure suit that supplied him with methane; the vestigial-winged Geonosian Poggle the Lesser, Archduke of the Stalgasin Hive; the stalk-necked Gossam president of the Commerce Guild, Shu Mai; the cranial-horned Corporate Alliance Magistrate, Passel Argente; and former Republic Senators Po Nudo and Tikkes – Aqualish and Quarren, respectively.

Grievous was at his limits. Literally at his limits. But he should have known that from the moment Gunray and Poggle crossed paths. The two were bickering about the droid factories money costs and budgets, Gunray had the greedy feeling that he was being cheated out of money from all the idiocy of the droids. Grievous couldn't agree more with the idiocy part. Yet Poggle the Lesser sternly stated that Gunray is being covetous with his wealth and cannot afford for more efficient droids. Gunray was about to counter, until Grievous popped a nerve and gave way to a growl that shook the entire chamber. At last the shrill of silence blocked the noise, and all eyes turned to Grievous.

"My patience is running thin. Proceed with the meeting or_ I_ will," Grievous snarled ferociously and gradually the obedience was coming to in the member's minds.

San Hall took the stand from across the impatient general, clearing his throat before speaking.

"We will begin with the problem of the infiltration of our most essential trade route. Just recently a large fleet carrying expensive ion weaponry were ambushed by the Republic, and sadly, we could not retrieve any of the cargo on board, leaving most of our fundings in vain."

"What?"

"How could this have happened?"

Gasps and horror filled the council room. Even Grievous, who took part in the attack to fend off the Republic slime, knew how important that route was to the confederacy. Smugglers, bankers, and recent clients made purchases with the Confederacy in that specific area only because it was in the most remote area out of the entire galaxy and untouched by Republic forces. And the Republics interference was causing a major problem for both Grievous and the Separatists.

Nute Gunray nearly jumped from his seat, outraged by the news. "Someone must have leaked the information. I demand the person responsible for this humiliating action to speak now!"

Poggle chirped in anger towards the Viceroy, his wings twitching in agitation. His aid, Sun Fac, buzzed in caution.

"I doubt it was any of us, Viceroy! I'm certain you foolishly left information for the Republic to follow, you fool!" Grievous had interpreted, watching the argument bloom into a full-out battle of wits.

"My fault!? This wouldn't have happened in the first place if you're droids weren't so incompetent and unreliable!" Gunray accused, pointing a fat finger to the Geonosian.

"How dare you! Do not blame you're crimes on my creations, Viceroy. And like I said before, if you were to pay me more, then I would have been able to afford the modifications needed for their efficiency."

"I will do no such thing! I will not waste my money on something that stupid."

Everyone, Grievous included, looked at the Viceroy with such anger it could be sensed from around. Yet Grievous had to refrain himself from speaking with anger or take action at what the greedy Neimoidian had just said. He wanted to rip out his mouth right now, and the instinct was itching at Grievous' mind so intensely it was uncontrollable. Of course they needed the modification! The idiot! Has he not been on the battlefield lately, or even step foot outside of his panic bunker. Honestly.

"Viceroy!" Cried San Hill, "I pay my half of the fundings and I ask that you do the same."

"I pay a fair amount, thank you."

"Oh really? And why, stars help me, do I not believe a word you say."

"Because it's the truth."

"Its rubbish if you ask me!" Tambor grumbled from the statement, his arms crossed.

"You will pay the 50%, Viceroy!"

"40%"

"What!?"

"40%. I will not go higher."

"Wanna bet!?"

Grievous dropped into his seat, massaging his eyes as a headache boggled his mind and the stress was all he could feel. He was beginning to think the reason the Count sent the general was so that he didn't have to face _this_. In truth, he couldn't think of a logical motive to blame him, they are nothing but a crowd of children, and Grievous feared that this meeting is going to take longer than he anticipated.

* * *

I helped my assigned group with the mopping, careful not to knock over any of the priceless possession the neimoidian, Nute Gunray, would display for all to see. But I knew he only took this sort of action to show off his wealth for any visitors or guests. The entire place looked like it could have been made from gold entirely, and that made me shiver from my wild imagination. A gold castle, now that would best even Grievous' castle.

Something solid poked me rather hard, right on one of the many bruises I was practically covered in. I massaged my bruised shoulder, and looked to the Twi'lek gesturing to the guard coming in for his routine check. He would examine our work, and even though we did our job properly, he would punish us by slapping us across the face. I was saved by the guard's abuse by being forcefully hidden by one of the Twi'leks who would move in front of me to block my existence from the guards.

The Neimoidian came up to one of the Twi'leks and slapped her across the face for not mopping in a clock-wise rhythm rather than the counter-clock-wise she was so accustomed to. I wanted to intercede and not be a coward, but the blue Twi'lek me kept me still, and I was forced to watch the poor slave girl be abused.

"Idiot. Proceed in a clock-wise form or I will give orders for you're food to be taken for three days."

The girl frowned weakly. "But my food is already being taken away for a whole week-"

Again she was slapped; I nearly gave out shriek and covered my mouth from pitching any higher.

"Don't you dare speak against me, you stupid girl."

The girl toppled to the floor and blood trickled down the side of her split lip. Unable to take much more of this, I moved in front of the broken girl and slapped the man on the cheek with strong force. The neimoidian took a step back, wide eyed as he touched his reddened cheek before recalling what had occurred and looked down to me ferociously. But I was not scared. Instead I glared up to the tall neimoidian, mimicking Grievous' glare just barely.

I was sick of this. Sick of the mistreatment. With the headdress burning before my eyes, it made my actions more destructive. An idea came to me in an instant. If Grievous wasn't going to return the heirloom, then I'll make him.

"You insolent little. . ." the man raised his arm, ready to punish me.

Instantly I got in a fighting stance, my training taking action and my instincts fully synchronized.

"Try it, buddy." I hissed, baring my teeth like a wild beast ready to pounce. "Rumours say Togruta's carry venom in their teeth, and trust me, sometimes rumours can be true."

The guard shook in fright before taking a further step back, falling on his behind, and crawled away from me as I challenged him. I smirked and said, "Idiot," over my shoulder and turned to the girls. Respect gleamed in their eyes, and the girl from the floor bowed in respect graciously.

Warily, one of the Lethan's asked, "Do you really carry venom in you're teeth!"

I scratched the side of my headtail bashfully and said, "Heck no. That's just a rumour. But the guards don't need to know that."

The girls giggled and offered a sort of respect I could possibly get from them. But I was doing what was needed to be done. After all, when there is someone in trouble, you should always help. It was the right thing to do.

A low, soft growl came from the three girls small tummies, especially from the girl with the split lip. I gave glared at their petite state and began to hate the ill-treatment these girls were forced to, the anger just grew and grew until I clenched my hands into fists and calmed at last.

"Where's the kitchen?" I asked at last, determination written all over my face.

The eldest of the three was uncertain about my question, but she raised her hand slowly. "I know the way, but we're not assigned to that area for today."

"I know," I assure, "but I'm positive that it's Lunch Time by now. Show the way."

The girl reluctantly did as I had asked her and showed me the path to the main kitchen where more slaves, surprisingly cooks, had their feet shackled and bound to the floor, the chain only long enough to go where they were supposed to go. And there was a guard, weapon at hand, keeping watch until we entered. He bared his weapon at me as soon as he laid his eyes on me, but it didn't change my course of actions.

"What business do you have here, slave?"

"We want food."

"Tough luck, kid. You will be given the amount of food you've deserved by the guards later on tonight, leave."

I crossed my arms and stood up to the man, the cooks taking glances from their duties.

"No," I spoke.

"I'm warning you kid."

I stomped on the neimoidians foot and grabbed the nearby trashcan over his head, blocking his sight and pushed him back. The guard fell to the floor and lost consciousness from impact, how weak.

I grabbed some of the breads in the cabinets and the desserts from the fridge and offered them to the slaves from around. They all took my offerings without haste and I was glad they didn't say no. I sat on the table right after, and enjoyed a slice of Puffcake.

"Take that, Grievous."

* * *

"I'm not going 50%. This will ruin me."

"Adding 10% isn't going to do anything to you're precious banks."

"How would you know such a thing, may I ask? Hill?"

"You're not serious, Gunray. How many planets have you pillaged? What are you to lose when already you have fortunes of six planets put together?"

"I will not answer such an absurd question."

"You're arrogance will lead you to you're demise, Viceroy. Mark my words."

"Sticks and stones, Tikkes."

"You slimy, arrogant, Rancor loving-"

Grievous' rage exploded, slamming his arms down at the table in front of him, leaving large dents when he removed his claws.

"The purpose of this meeting was about the trade routes, not about money fundings and budgets to which I have no concern for," he spoke, ending the arguments. "I suggest a different route far from where most of our other routes are found."

"I agree, but where?"

"I suggest we ask Jabba the Hutt," Grievous said at last and was given pale-faces and frightened eyes. "And I'm certain Count Dooku would agree." Using the Count was a sure win of wits, for everyone in the Separatists did not go against him or disrespect in any way.

Shu Mai didn't accept the suggestion, however. "But why the crime lord? He is dangerous, and could very well stab us in the backs if we're not careful."

"This deal will only suit as temporary until we get most of our important trades finished and collected. With the power of the Hutt, they'll offer us better protection than we could get with the mindless droids."

"But what if he won't accept our request?"

"Buy him off." Grievous finished, leaving his seat and preparing to exit the meeting, "Decide amongst yourselves about the amount of money you wish to offer the Crime Lord and inform me when you do."

Grievous left the meeting and he could already hear the conversations of money being brought up and the percentages. He smirked, glad that the fools were finally getting to business and not at each others throats. Grievous shifted his cape as he stalked, the headdress jingling in the capes secret pocket as he went.

Suddenly a neimoidian crossed his path and walked at the general's side.

"Sir, we have a problem with you're slave?"

Grievous' right eye twitched just by the mention of the brat, and thoughts of the horrors she's could have committed while he was away were flourishing in his tired mind. Massaging over his strained eyelids, Grievous unwillingly regarded the guard.

"What has she done?"

* * *

The girls had said their final farewells to me and left to their designated rooms far beneath the lower levels castles, and already their absence was bugging me. I had to admit I did enjoy the time spent with the other slaves. Chores still had to be done, courtesy of my humble master. Mopping and dusting was needed to be done, both of which I finished in time to relax alongside one of Gunray's marble statue, its only company comforting me as the sun fell and the darkness returned.

A guard, luckily none of the others I had scared off, had ordered me to follow him as soon as he spotted him. Apparently word got out of my mischievous chivalries and Grievous was the first to hear of it – the guard was sent to bring me to him – and I assumed the cyborg didn't want to have a friendly exchange of words. I felt death fall upon me like weights, and the image of those furious monstrous eyes shook me, the collar glowing as the darkness followed down the halls. Grievous was leaning against the window, but the portrait the window showed of Neimoidia's only sun setting under the tropical tree's did not settle him and I took note on the generals shoulders grow stiff. His eyes drooped once as we moved closer. At first he showed no evidence noticing the two of us as we crept closer, but when I looked down he stifled a cough.

"Leave us," He ordered to the guard, not bother to look at him. The guard bowed first and retreated past the corridors without haste. I looked up to the general and met his eyes. He made his move.

"How good is you're vocabulary, slave?"

I took defence and looked at the sun set, all awhile wondering about the motives of his question before speaking carefully. "Good," I answered.

"Describe _behave_?"

From the corner of my eye, I took heed on the general; his eyes did not turn away. Frightened, I looked back to the scenery and spoke what my brain remembered. "Behave: To conduct oneself in a proper way."

"And did you act properly today?" The general turned his attention away from the sun, looking down upon me.

I sighed, for I knew the answer.

"Answer me!"

"I think so-"

"No, you did not!"

"How so?" I asked, raising my voice to the general.

He moved closer. "I ordered you to mind me. To behave like a proper slave. And yet you refuse and become the head riot of countless defiant slaves. They are being punished as we speak for you're behaviour, and you will now know that I have requested their punishments to be beyond the full extend."

I ripped away from the window, sickened and horrified by the cyborg. "Leave them out of this. They have done nothing wrong!"

"Conspiring and association with the person responsible is enough to get them involved. Let this be a lesson for you to be more mindful when choosing you're actions."

I wanted to run away – which I did – but the cyborg grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back.

"Don't run away from me!"

"Give me my headdress back and I'll behave!" I screamed. This was what it was all about. My chivalries, my behaviour, everything for the piece that helped keep my independence.

"Is this the purpose of you're acts?!"

Struggling with his grip, I did not bother to answer. Pain suddenly ripped through my arm as it was twisted in the wrong direction. I yelped and nodded in response to get him to stop the pain, he did.

"I've told you before. It belongs to me now. Obey!"

"Never!"

The collar burned round my neck and sparked, jolting my entire spine and leaving me burning from the inside. I breathed heavily in pain, falling to my knees. Grievous pulled me back up and was about to say something until a guard presented himself.

"General Grievous. Nute Gunray has requested for you immediately."

"At last they've come to a solution!" Grievous pulled me by the collar, forcing me to follow him in my weakened state. I grabbed at his claws to get him to loosen his hold a bit, but he didn't. We reached a meeting – I assumed the one Grievous was attending to – and watched them speak to one another over money depositing. Gripped closer to his face, Grievous warned me of one last chance to repent and to behave during the meeting. I nodded painfully, from fear of the collars power. Grievous took his seat after forcefully pushing me to sit by him, the table hiding me from the other members.

The meeting started with that same Neimoidian, Nute Gunray. I wanted to hiss at him, even after what the girls told me, I already hated him the moment I laid my eyes on him. But a sinking feeling told I would have been punished and refrained myself unwillingly.

The neimoidian announced directly to the general, concerned only for himself. "We have come to the decision of offering Jabba the Hutt 100,000 credits."

"Is that you're final decision?" This question was for everyone in the room. And I could see the answer from their faces: no. The room fell into despair, and neither occupant spoke their mind towards the general, fear was coursing through them. The mood caught on to Grievous as well, and ordered me to bring refreshments for the Confederates, possibly to calm their nerves. As I left to get the refreshments – I saw the general demand a Pylat Bird from the nearest guard. The request had me wonder as I went to the kitchen four hallways to the left of the meeting. A deathly air welcomed me as I entered the kitchen.

* * *

The nearest Neimoidian guard fitted with armor and sword at command had brought Grievous what he had asked for, the magnificent black and white bird – the Pylat bird. Grievous would then ask the guard to place the songbird on in open table, but somewhere the other members would not be able to see it. He didn't want them to think he was playing them into his hands. Confined in its secure round cage, the Pylat bird began its harmonious song, giving the conference room a false sense of security, and giving Grievous the upper-hand towards the meeting.

San Hill rose from his seat, unaware of the bird's existence, spoke with less fear – but held uncertainness in his tone.

"If the Crime Lord asks for more, it will leave us bankrupt and unable to manufacture further with the droids."

"That is a risk I am willing to take," was what Grievous responded to the Muun, unsure whether his words were true in fact, and hoped the future could side with him for once. "Begin transmitting to the Hutt, and I ask that San Hill speak on behalf of the Confederacy."

The Muun responded positively, giving in to the soothing music ringing in his head.

The small Togruta returned, holding a silver plate full of refreshments, her face in sorrow. She must have witnessed the outcome of the punishments delivered to the cooks and refused to glance at the general; he gave her no regard in return and watched her actions carefully and placed the drinks nearest to the Confederacy members.

"Ah! If it isn't the Jedi-slave!" The slimy sound of Gunray's voice regarded the girl, and giving the general a slight migrain. She looked up to him and kept her face compressed from unleashing a dirty look.

Grievous smirked from her obedience.

When Ahsoka ignored the neimoidian, Gunray attacked again with his words and intellect.

"You're treachery amongst my slaves will not go unpunished, you despicable tail-head. And I demand you pay this outrage at once," Gunray snarled fiendishly, his red-orbed eyes glinting for violence.

The slave has already been dealt with personally, Viceroy," Grievous intercepted. "And I ask that you leave my slave be, she is none of you're concern."

Nute Gunray fell in his seat in defeat. Saved from the neimodian's pathetic wrath, Ahsoka was sill at the mercy of Confederacy's watchful eyes, watching her and cowering as she offered them the refreshments.

"This is remarkable!" Wat Tambor stood over her before she could give him his drink. "To think a Jedi can be enslaved. You have claimed a worthy prize general!"

"Indeed I have."

The cyborg watched his slave grow uneasy and spark a light of anger within her. He beckoned her to come back to his side immediately, but was intercepted by yet another one of Gunray's remarks. Grievous growled.

"What a pity for her master if she had one. Must have lost his life in the vacuum of space, the most pitiful way to die!"

Stopping in her footsteps, Ahsoka stood dead in her tracks.

"Slave," Grievous commanded, hoping to regain control in his faulty slave.

But his words did not reach her. She looked straight at the ground, inches away from the Viceroys seat, the silver platter trembling in her hands.

"My master . . ., "She mumbled." . . . is alive.

Gunray glowed with excitement from her reaction, and kept pestering her. "Oh? Then he must have fled like the slithering _coward_ he was. You were probably holding him back, I'm certain-"

Water spilled the area Nute Gunray occupied. Dripping with water, his large hat limping at his side, Nute Gunray was drenched with the refreshments the girl held. She stood there still, watching what she had done before attempting to flee the room. Grievous narrowly caught her with one swift move and threw her to the guards.

"Send her to the nearest storage room. I will deal with her later."

The guards took the rebellious slave away, she cursed at the neimoidian for the mockery of her precious master before pulled out of the room.

Nute Gunray waved his arms in attempt to get some of the moisture to dry away.

"I want that child executed for her behavior." Gunray ordered Grievous angrily. "You're ability to control the girl is a humiliating site to see for a high-raking general such as yourself."

"True, she is not fully domesticated. Because of what she is, it is a rather difficult task to complete," Grievous admitted but pointed at the Viceroy accusingly. "However, she acted out of defense for her previous master. You provoked her, and I've warned you plenty enough of the fact that she is mine to deal with."

Gunray gulped.

Grievous departed to the put an end to the slave once and for all, he was already having too much problems to deal. Blood was all he could see as the anger boiled inside his heart and his eyes glowed to tyrannical yellow.

* * *

I sat in the middle of the storage room housing boxes and shelves of droid parts and other broken machinery. Curled in a ball, I didn't bother turning to face the door as it opened and immediately recognized the footsteps stopping behind my back.

"It was a mistake for me to involve you in this mission. Obviously you're sanity is not well enough to handle this."

"Look who's talking," I mumbled under my knees. I felt a cold hand rip at my headtail and pulled me to my feet. I cried out in pain as my right headtail was being mistreated.

"I control myself; you, on the other hand, have a funny way of releasing you're emotions for that pitiful excuse for a master."

"Don't you dare call him that!" My fist rose to punch, but he flung me into the shelves before I could even raise my arm. Grievous walked towards me like an animal, I tried to back away but fell deeper into the shelf.

"Two guards will be guarding the door. Don't try anything while I'm away, or this time I'll relinquish you of an arm and a leg, my child."

I glared.

He left without speaking to me, warning me with an icy glare before locking the door from behind. I jumped off and punched at the door through a fit of anger and screamed.

"Bastard!"

* * *

She cursed at him from behind the locked door, but Grievous continued on unfazed.

When he returned to the conference room Nute Gunray had already changed his clothes and hat.

"Have we contacted Jabba The Hutt?" Grievous asked impatiently, in an attempt to divert the members from what had happened. The songbird tune changed to a lower tone as it felt the general's pulsing anger.

"We have," San Hill said at last. "We have connection and are transmitting to him as we speak."

"Good."

Nute Gunray grumbled a remark too low for anyone to hear, but Grievous knew he was referring to Ahsoka. That bloody fool just wouldn't let it go.

The center of the meeting's table was crafted with a main hologram projector for any foreign conferences. As bright as blue, the projector created the Crime Lord and his majordomo, Bib Fortuna.

Jabba the Hutt, the slimy and merciless crimelord that he was, expressed interest in the meeting and spoke in Huttese. Fortuna interpreted for him, yet Grievous already knew the language.

"Greeting's Jabba. We aren't troubling you in any way, are we?" San Hill greeted politely.

But Jabba was in a very gracious mood today, oddly enough for him to put on a smile as well. Fortuna smiled at his masters mood.

"Recently we entered the Boonta Race. It was highly entertaining and worthwhile this year, though not as worthwhile as the time with that Sebulba and the small boy who defeated him in the podrace."

"I see. How interesting."

The gelatinous Hutt gave out a fat sigh and asked a question.

"Anyways, what is it that you want?" Fortuna asked.

"If you may have possibly heard, we were ambushed by Republic forces. This attack left us with less secret routes that could damage our transactions. And we've come to you for you're support in helping us with our cause."

"Oh. How so?"

"Our confederacy was hoping if you could offer us passage through the Hutt system."

With his yellow eyes widened in horrific discovery, Jabba raised his voice out of anger.

'My allies have told me stories of you're deceit and it leaves me to question you're ulterior motives."

"We have nothing to hide and ask for the routes only."

Jabba was becoming impatient and grumbled. Fortuna settled him down only by a little.

Now was the time, and Grievous chose now to take the opportunity. He gestured San Hill, and confidence resurfaced on the Muun's face.

He cleared his throat and spoke again. "We are willing to offer a large amount of credits if that's what it will take," were his final words and left the Hutt to ponder.

The Hutt was skeptical. He rubbed his chin and his eyes rose like he was looking up to the conference rooms ceiling. Grievous beckoned Hill again. He nodded.

"We start with 100,000 credits as a start."

Greed glowed in the crimelords eyes, and like a prey, he was drawn and captured. Before he could speak, someone out of view interrupted him and murmured to low to hear. The Hutts eyes widened in surprise and they began to exchange words, deep in conversation. Jabba shooed him away finally and spoke in his first language once more.

"Due to some matters, we must cut this transmission to a short."

Jabba interrupted the Twi'ek and spoke again eagerly before leaving.

"My master is suggesting you visit his palace to transact the credits. That won't be a problem, will it?" he paused for a response, patiently waiting.

Hill answered, calm after the news.

"We can make some arrangements," in other words San Hill agreed to plans. "We'll send one of our own to finish the rest of the arrangements if that will suit to you're measures."

"Jabba will be most pleased with that."

Hill smiled. "Good. Have a wonderful evening."

The light burned out and Fortuna disappeared into the Hologram, leaving the confederacy another thing to deal with. All of them knew the problem already, but none spoke so as to not draw attention to themselves. Paranoia grew as the songbirds voice faded and slept after a long time of endless singing. Who was going to go?

"I think Viceroy should go to repent for his low charities," a voice suggested.

"Piss off."

Grievous roared, "I will go," and stood.

"Are you insane?" San Hill gasped, placing both hands on the table and moving forward. "If we send you, the crimelord will think we're trying to kill him."

"He won't as long as I give him the money."

"I'm still uncertain."

"Uncertain or not, I will go. I know for a fact that none of you have the fraction of courage to step foot on Tatooine, I am merely offering some assistance."

The conference room didn't say a word, and none of the members countered the general for they knew his words proved true.

"But, for precautions, I will not take the credits with me to the Hutts palace. Some of Jabba's goons always prove to be untrustworthy, even to Jabba's word."

Grievous finished with the last of the arrangements for departure and ordered for the Viceroy to bring the credits after the deal is confirmed. At first, Gunray was unsure and whined why he had to go. With false encouragement, the members gained his support and the Viceroy agreed to Grievous' demand. Grievous couldn't have it any other way and was pleased with the outcome despite the change of the credit exchange. However, the brat would have to come with him. Grievous could feel the god's wrath fall upon him. The girl was becoming unhealthy for the general to take in and he couldn't handle her anymore than she was worth. But he accepted that's the price to pay.

As the members departed, Grievous was the last to go as he picked up the Pylat birds cage. The headdress gave off within the pocket of the general's cape. He dropped his arm and touched it with the tip of his claw-finger, and, as he had expected, the woman returned.

_"Sheelal."_

Grievous' heart jumped. The ecstasy and remembrance was like an addiction to Grievous. He felt her in his past and could not remember if he had possibly met her in his mortal life. Why can't he remember? For awhile he had been tampering with the headdress and yet his memories show no sign of progress. He wanted to know her. And if she were alive, he wanted to meet her face to face.

The next thing he knew, Grievous found himself in front of the door where Ahsoka was kept, and the woman disappeared from his mind.

* * *

Please rate & review

I'm not fully certain how superior Grievous is with the Separatist council and what not, all I know is he does not take crap from Gunray and I promise in the near future Gunray will get his ass handed to him. GRIEVOUS IS NOBODY'S BITCH WOOH (I promise).


	7. Chapter 7

Jabba's Palace

The meeting was made. The bargain set. Now all Grievous had to do was give the fat Hutt some words of false security and the Hutt routes can be easily purchased without any rebellion or revolt. However, the general's stress was at peak and his headache rang at a higher beat with each step he took. Perhaps it was the atmosphere this planet had, or maybe the blubbering of those worthless nobles, but Grievous was sure it was because of his slave – who was two paces behind him.

Carefully, he would listen to the rhythm of her footsteps. Such a precaution was not related to paranoia, but caution. Even with the promises she made to him, she was still the little despicable spoiled brat trying to humiliate him to the eyes of his rivals. Does she honestly think he won't kill her? She's no more special than Viceroy. Even lesser, Grievous sorted. Even still, too, her affection for her master is becoming unhealthy for the general, and he could only wonder how far she would go for the Jedi filth. But the general was aware of the up sides, her being here was vital to whatever sick experiment his master, Count Dooku, has planning for her. And it's taking him a long time to finally take custody and begin his plots. Grievous would want to go as well, for the very image of her suffering filled his beating heart with content.

His eyes hardened, his soul quenching savagely for blood, and his claws clenched to keep the savagery from overtaking his instincts. And the image of a particular dead Jedi mutt was all he could think of as the sliding doors permitted the Grievous and his follower through.

The Main Hanger was the same desolate shape Grievous had left it, its only company being Grievous' vessel._, The Soulless One_.

"Hurry up. Get in before my mind decides to leave you here at the mercy of the guards," Grievous had threatened, pushing her hard enough for the message to sink in.

The Togruta padawan got in without a fuss, still not speaking a word since the time he retrieved her from the storage room. In a way, it was a childish attempt to get back at him for her mistreatment. Humorous, yet pathetic at the same time.

As the engine pumped with fuel, roaring beautifully as the vessel set into simultaneously. Grievous exited the world of Neimoidia and was now punching in co-ordinates to Tatooine where his client resided.

Vast space, all black with only billions of stars to light the general to his journey. Again he would check for signals nearby, placing his forward blasters on standby. The tips of either side of his wings wielded destructive fire that could bring down a whole Republic formation if he wanted to. But it would remain unused as he scans could detect nothing as a threat, unless meteors were something dangerous – but that was only true so long as Grievous didn't brush against them or – stars help him – indivertibly crash into them. What a way to die.

The meteors, fragments of planets that had possibly died or commonly vanquished by the hands of war itself. Many have died, and many have lost their existence in this vast galaxy. Now left in piece, they could be determined by the minerals the rocks could carry as they floated aimlessly in dead space.

Grievous fell back into his piloting seat, leaving the cruiser to auto-pilot. The headache did not recede, still stinging behind his drooping eyes. He permitted his eyelids to close, and though he lacked the ability of sleep, it felt like he was capable at the moment. Deeper, and deeper, sight fading, body still, and very soon his mind was at ease.

The holocam imputed between the controls of his cruiser beeped repeatedly, alerting the general at an alarming time. Grievous growled, and imputed the transmission.

A holoimage appeared over the holocam, descriptively disgusting as the original.

"General, you are near the destination, I presume?" Nute Gunray said.

"If I was, do you believe that I would inform you at hand?"

"This agreement must come into fruition, Grievous! Not only will this benefit our cause, but also you."

Grievous snarled. "Is this some pity attempt of a threat? Would you like me to return and give you a word of my mind."

Nute Gunray gulped. "J-just make sure you don't cause anything that will ruin our plans."

"I will not, you have my word."

"Good. And while you're at it, why don't you take some spare time domesticating that wretched slave of yours," he then added.

"Mind your own. My slave was fully capable before you decided to be the 'superior' life form."

"You're one to-"

With the smell of burning blaster fires, the navi-computer picked up the 10% damage toll the deflector shields were taking. Grievous could feel his cruiser rock in protest, but only for a short while for the inpervium coated at the hull of the pronged vessel protected the more important features. Grievous switched to forward scanners.

Two pursuers were approximately 10 yards away from his cruiser, both modified with twin-turbo laser cannons. Though it would cause Grievous some delay, his cruiser was far advanced for such a distracting attack. Grievous was certain his cruiser could sustain even against the heaviest attacks.

He forced his Auxiliary thrusters to howl and pushed the speed up a notch, dodging a coming blast.

The first blue cruiser fell behind the yellow, tailing after the other in a line. Soon after, the blaster came showering over the Grievous cruiser, his deflector shield deflecting most of the blasts. Grievous scoffed and ventured into a nearby Meteor trail to throw them off, and led them to his trap. The two followed after him just as Grievous predicted and continued their formation with the blue one leaving the work to the yellow.

Grievous pushed his cruiser and back flipped over the two completely and fired his triple-laser cannons on the unsuspecting blue. The Blue dipped to the side and cleverly hid beneath the depths of the meteors, leaving the yellow unprotected from the behind. Again Grievous fired, assuming the blue had fled cowardly, sending the yellow cruiser some exterior damage to its left wing. He aimed for the main thrusters in an attempt to render it paralyzed and become an easy target.

Suddenly the blue cruiser bolted and brushed against the Soulless Ones hull, sending Grievous co-coordinated attack off-target.

"Annoying pest."

Grievous aimed for the pursuer's underbelly and made a devastating damage. The cruisers right wing sparked, trailing to the pilot-seat and at last evaporating in a gust of smoke, the remains crashing into a nearby meteor. Now all Grievous was left with was the yellow cruiser, certain of a future victory.

Pitifully the cruiser was trying to get out of Grievous' range, but the general's cruiser was just too fast for it.

Suddenly the cruiser discarded a bomb, exploding in an instant to the fronts of Grievous. Grievous was shocked, caught off guard, and narrowly dodged the aftermath of the explosion, the impact leaving a crackling scar in space.

"Blasts!"

A low, pounding sounded the back of Grievous' pilot seat, disrupting his world of warfare and bloodshed. Far from recognition, Grievous had forgotten the existence of the Togruta slave girl. A short pause and her voice could be heard.

"What's going on? What barbaric act are you playing at!"

Troublesome, Grievous had thought. All he needed now was a set back from his prey. This girl has proven more than she's worth, and Grievous was losing his patience.

Impatiently he slammed his fist against the back-side to the left of his seat, barking for her to keep quiet. He didn't have time for her, especially when his forward scanners couldn't range in the pursuer, supplying him with the fact that the cruiser had disappeared.

"Damnit, all."

The scanners were unable to pick up a signal, assuring the general that his attacker fled.

Despite the wanting of pursuit, Grievous instantly recalled the lectures of his master to keep himself controlled. And he just couldn't disobey him, no matter how much effort he put in. Whether it was an instinct of fear – which he denies – Grievous couldn't bring himself to raise his blade against the sith lord if it depended on life itself. Such a tendency did no go well with the general, he doubted himself on such a reaction. Sure, he does hold a sense of attachment for the organic human, but for gratitude and nothing more.

Without him, Grievous would very well be scrap metal and remains on a cold dissection table.

Grievous proceeded through the trail, keeping a keen eye out for any suspicious movement. He watched the meteors and their instinctive movements in space, yet nothing out of the ordinary.

Tatooine beheld its disdainful color for a dead world. And once Grievous entered its atmosphere, he could already feel the heat thicken and burn his armor as he landed near Jabba's Palace. The guards were no where to be seen, but Grievous was certain they were most likely inside the palace to get out of the heat. By luck, Grievous came prepared with his cape to protect his inner fluids cool from the tremendous heat, as well. And much to his dismay, the heat only got worse when he exited his pilot seat.

Grievous looked towards the sun and knew he made a terrible mistake taking this mission upon himself.

A black smoke had taken Grievous' eyes away from the rays of the sun and followed the smoke to the left corner of his cruisers wing. His chest nearly clenched.

"Those deadbeat muggers!" He nearly barked, giving out to a rumbling roar that any organic who had heard such a growl, they would have thought it belonged to a crazed beast.

The right wing was producing an odor Grievous could not describe but can determine the smell of burning oil and kept his distance. Without the proper tools he would have to be careful with his flying. But he was furious and shamed to have been inflicted such a blow on his cruiser. He had underestimated the attackers, costing him dearly.

His eyes, in a daze, looked back to the sandy terrain and its everlasting dead. A thought came to mind: this was the second worse way to die.

While the atmosphere will suck a being out of their cozy starfighter and kill them within the matter of seconds, the dessert will burn and give you the illusion of false imagery. The sun, more powerful when there was nothing but sand, was an adversary worse than the general himself. He knew from experience, having lived on a planet where the sun blares and the waters turned murky to bathe or drink from, his only chance of survival was to hide under the trees and nest under the shade it provided. But on this type of terrain, shade was scarce.

A brush of wind caught the cape, the jingling of the headdress filling the sounds of the moaning winds. A faint memory came to mind and Grievous' shoulders stiffened.

_The dirt was dry, water was scarce, and the resources of his planet dwindled and died. The small boy began to sweat and was becoming lightheaded. Everything from around moved on its own, but the small boy was vaguely aware of that. He tumbled on his own two feet, falling on his stomach, and at a lost for air. A small tree was only a mile away from where he was within the bounds of the forest. He could hear the Muumu's calling and drawing closer, sensing the presence of an easy meal. _

_Weakly, the small boy took a clump of dirt in his hand and attempted to drag himself near the tree to hide in. He could hear the animalistic sounds come closer, and closer. And the boy kept pulling himself to survival, but with one final gasp he collapsed as the sounds of crumbled dirt moved nearer. _

_The boy, having lost the will to even cry out for help, whimpered sadly with the sun burning the back of his head. He buried his head in the dried dirt, and prayed that the predators will be merciful and eat him quickly. _

_When he felt the presence of something stopping at his side, he snapped his eyes shut and froze. _

_Suddenly, a five digit hand was placed over his head, and a shower of water was the next feeling that registered in his nerves. It was the coolest water he had ever felt in his life, cooler and fresher than the water at his village's fountain. Forcing his head up, the boy saw not a Muumu or another dangerous carnivore, but a woman, her species unknown to him at the moment due to over-exhaustion. Her headdress dangled next to her cheek with a warm smile, though the boy didn't trust those dead eyes._

_She crouched next to the boy and patted him on the head, placing a pot half filled with water next to her. _

_"Hello there."_

Grievous snapped back to the pounding of metal inpervium, darting his gaze back to the Soulless One. The back compartment thumped and tried to push out the lid. Recalling the Togruta trapped within his cruiser, Grievous stepped to the compartment, admitting the lid to open. More smoke blew out from the compartment with the girl crawling out, coughing uncontrollably, her eyes tearing.

"Can I sit up front for now on, please?"

Grievous shook his head, "Be grateful I didn't let the toxic smoke suffocate your lungs and leave you to burn in the sun."

"Is this confirmation?"

"Take it as security. As I said back on Neimoidia, I will purge you from my cruiser if you become intolerable."

"I'll take that with heed, since I know you take a twisted pleasure making me suffer."

Grievous laughed at her comment. "You know me well, pup."

"I do, unfortunately."

Grievous nudged the child away rudely and inspected the interior of the compartment, deducing that the main thrusters had something to do with it. It would be most horrid if the damage had inflicted defects in his main auxiliary thrusters, but he would have to see it to be sure. He tore out the side plate of the compartment and began ticking with the thruster's hardware. Unaware of his Togruta slave watching his actions over his shoulder.

Two steps closer, and Grievous turned to her and pushed her away.

"One more step and you'll regret it," he growled.

She gave him a nasty glare. "Don't start getting angry at me just because you're blasted cruiser got damaged. I didn't do anything."

Grievous ignored her and kept working. And yet he could feel her stare, annoying as it was, and heard her move not near him, but next to him over the compartments lid, her curious eyes still on him. He was about to threaten her when she interrupted him swiftly.

"You done yet?"

Snarling at her, Grievous scared her off his cruiser, his rage brewing.

"Stop talking!"

The Togruta teen sighed, ignoring his threat, her blue eyes still fixed on him. "I was just trying to break the silence. Its. . . well- it's rather uncomfortable due to the circumstances."

"You'll get used to it," He snapped, annoyed that his threat had no affect.

"How can I? I'm not like you, I'm not. . . "

"Heartless."

"I was going to say lonely, but that suits the description exquisitely," the slave changed her way of seating and raised her arm over her eyes to protect her from the sun. "Are you done yet, now?"

A spark caught on Grievous instantaneously, catching the general off guard. He jumped away and waved his hand to get the electricity from tingling his arm. Anger overtook him at last and released.

"For the last time! Be quiet!"

She fell back and compressed her lips, at last mute to the general's relief .

After thirty or so minutes, Grievous gave up on the thrusters and right wing, returning to the reality of his surroundings. The sun was nearly setting, and Grievous had a meeting to partake in.

Before departing, Grievous donned a cape over his large feature, internally surprised that it managed to cover his appearance completely with the exception of his talon-feet. It even kept his body temperature cooler, he started to like his small disguise, pulling the hood over his as he turned towards the entrance of Jabba's Palace, leaving his cruiser two miles away. Ahsoka followed him when she saw him at last depart from his cruiser, sticking with him uncomfortably close.

The top dome-structure of the palace produced an eerie smog. He heard his slave crinkle her nose and scrunch her brows.

"What is that ghastly smell?"

To be honest he didn't know either, the smell was worse than his dying cruiser. He guessed it was the burning of rubber and metal mixed with burning coal – but that was just a guess. It made him disgusted and wondered how the Hutt can live like this.

The tall doors were as large as the generals' castle, its structure hardly anything to admire. He knocked on the gate impatiently, leaving an abundant of fist marks on the gates metal exterior, until a TT-8L gatekeeper droid presented itself from the peephole through the door. It scanned over the general first, then his slave, till it swiveled a meter away.

"What is you're purpose?" it tooted.

"Personal. Jabba the Hutt is expecting me," Grievous said.

It shivered and shook. "Entrance granted."

After it re-pocketed back inside the peephole, the gates opened at last, shade greeting them graciously. Grievous, for once, felt at ease, knowing that as long as he is inside, the sun can not reach him. He hurried inside with two armored Gamorrean's leading him to the sounds of the music. Before he set another foot, he pulled the girl's hood over her head, covering her features to conceal her from any unwanted peers. Light protruded from the inner chamber of the palace, the music rising and the lights were blaring tremendously as he entered.

* * *

The sun gone, darkness returning, and the inner sanctums of this intimidating palace made my blood boil and my heart race. And I thought Grievous' castle was horrible, this was where I was proven wrong. I could hear chains, noise, animalistic howls, screams, and death itself lurking. Never have I ventured in a place more disturbing than Grievous' castle, and my headtails tingled cautiously. Instinctively I moved closer to the general, pathetic as it was, I used him as my only means of defense from the guards.

Their pig snouts oozing with dried snot, their tusks poorly hygienic and cracked at the curves, and their armor giving them a bulky appearance. Without my lightsaber, I was at their mercy if it weren't for Grievous.

Caught up, I watched after the cyborg when we passed a chamber filled with scanty slave-girls dancing, bounty hunters, crooks, business people, and other creepy life-forms enjoying a party of some sort. There were musicians and singers creating illuminating music to their hearts end, with the party goers enjoying their drinks and snacks as it went on.

All of a sudden, the song died and everyone stopped in the moment of their activities when Grievous presented himself openly to a Hutt, a slave girl chained to his side. I heard Grievous muttering how lucky I was not being in her position; I took it as another warning. It felt weird, though, being watched by an audience of criminals.

The Hutt, whom I assumed to be Grievous' client, gestured his audience to leave to the next chamber and greeted the cyborg respectively. And yet I felt a disturbance around him, a _very_ unkindly disturbance.

Speaking in Huttese, the Hutt had a white Twi'lek translate for him.

"Greetings, humble guest."

Grievous nodded and greeted in turn.

"We welcome you to our abode and hope you enjoy you're temporary stay," the Twi'lek translated. "And you're name is?. . ."

"For now, I would like to keep my existence classified."

"A little suspicious don't you think. And what makes you think we can trust you to be the_ real_ representative."

"I am what I am. You're opinion, nor you're judgment will make me leave," He defended himself.

A loud chuckle came from the obese Hutt, licking his lips tenderly.

"My master trusts you, surprisingly," the Twi'lek translated.

"I don't expect you to trust me; all I ask is for the treaty to be met with."

"He understands."

The Hutt turned to me, curious, and spoke standard Huttese again. His interpreter spoke again.

"Who is this? Another one of you're associates?"

"Hardly." I heard him smirk. "This is my slave. Pay her no mind."

But the Hutt wouldn't take his disgusting mustard eyes off of me; somehow I shifted deeper under my dark hood. I stood there immobile, as I was being inspected as some sort of antique.

"What can she perform?"

"Housekeeping. It's all she can do as she is considerably incapable of performing any other means of skills."

I glared at him. Jerk.

The Hutt, intrigued, asked a question. But I already knew what he said before the interpreter could decipher, gravely.

"Would you be willing to sell her for a more proper slave?"

My eyes nearly popped out of my sockets, and my legs felt like jelly. Weakly I turned to the general and gaped when I noticed his eyes were at thought. Was he really thinking about selling me? And to the likes of this guy? This disgusting creature? A picture of my master came to mind, and sweat was already cascading down my cheek.

"No."

I blinked. No.

"The child is not for sale."

I blinked again. He said no.

"How unfortunate." Spoke the interpreter. "But my master will not pursue the matter; he wants to enjoy his party before business affairs. Please enjoy the party. We are holding such an occasion for the pod racers of the year. Jabba would be most upset if you didn't partake."

"That is unnecessary," Grievous half-barked. "I want this meeting to be admitted immediately for I do not accept any delay."

The Hutt spoke difficulty, licking his lips to give moisture, speaking more clearly this time. The green Twi'lek slave-girl chained to his side jerked away, grossed by his action.

I shuddered.

"My master, unfortunately, would like to further the current events. So please enjoy."

Grievous scowled and retracted his claws within his cloak – I'm guessing for his weapons. I took a step away without his knowing, watching his next move. The force guided me towards a few more steps before the cloak clicked.

"I'm very busy," Grievous hissed.

"Please, sir. It would be wise not to displease my master."

"It would be wise not to displease _me_!"

The chamber grew tense as was the air in the audience chamber, and I could sense a foreboding conflict. Frantic, and out of fear for my own safety, I did the first thing I could think of.

"I liked you're music! You have excellent taste!" my voice blurted.

Earning the eyes of both the general and the Twi'lek, plus the Hutt, I could only crack a weak smile. But it was worth the embarrassment, the mood had died down and Grievous' attention turned coarse to where I stood.

"Quiet!" He tugged my right headtail. I was expecting that.

I got stared down not only by Grievous – but by the Hutt as well. He looked at me with disgust and muttered something that sounded like a complaint.

"He wonders why you want to keep such a defect. A shame, really."

"She is youthful, and has yet to reach maturity."

"And still, you keep her."

"Temporarily, for reasons that are also classified."

"I see, well let the party begin! Let us pay a respectful greeting to our new guest."

I didn't know what came after, the painful twist of the arm – or the blaring of the music and dancing. My yelp was sounded out by the saxophone and singing, and was pulled to the side along with the Hutt. For the moment, the two spoke to each other too unintelligible for me to hear. They spoke to each other calmly, as if the conflict from before had never happened. I didn't understand it, but didn't think too hard on it. The pain in my arm was what had my minds attention.

He said, "Fine," and pulled me near the wall. He dropped his head at the same level as mine and glared.

"Stay here and don't do anything you'll regret in the future. You'll get no mercy when in this area. Understand?"

I glared back and reluctantly complied, "fine," after glancing over to the dancers at center stage, their sorrow encouraging my compliance.

"Good. Perhaps if you behave this time, I might ease on the punishment I still have in store for you," He assure, though I wouldn't consider it assurance.

"What punishment!" I demanded icily.

He snatched my throat before I could blink. "Don't get smart with me, brat! You punishment is for the humiliation back on Neimoidia."

"That slime ball had it coming!"

His grip intensified, I choked. "I don't care about you're excuses. You are a slave now, so accept." Finally he let go and turned his back to me and left after ordering me not to move from this spot. This time I did as I was told, sitting down with my back on the wall, massaging my throat as the party continued unaltered.

* * *

Grievous followed the white Twi'lek down to a long table occupied to the more malevolent criminals down in the underworld of crime. Grievous was especially given a seat to the right of Jabba the Hutt, a clear sign of champion over the rest of the table. With Jabba at end, making him more aggrandize than his reputation preceded him, he accustomed the clients with one another's names; Grievous included, and guided them to the scanty slaves holding the trays of food.

While the clients were fed with fine wine and foreign dishes, Grievous conversed with the Hutt personally.

"You asked for my company, here I am. State you're business before my attention is tired. I do want to proceed with our arrangement"

Jabba chuckled darkly, amused. He spoke his native tongue once more, which Grievous already knew before his interpreter could – Grievous quickly shoed him away.

"We have a traitor amongst us. Apparently leaking information that would leave most criminals wary of my palace. And it leaves me with a bad reputation."

Grievous was about to suggest his mistake but caught himself, he would instead allow the Hutt to speak blindly of himself.

"I ask for you to find the traitor," the Hutt asked.

Grievous spoke back in Huttese for precaution, feeling the curious eyes of unwanted eavesdroppers. "Are you're guards too cowardly to take the assignment themselves?"

"Not precisely. I do not trust any of them."

"Paranoid?"

"No, it is not uncommon for a crime lord such as me not to trust my own men."

"And instead you ask for the assistance of a complete stranger, whom you hardly trust," Grievous said.

"I told you before the party, didn't I. I trust you, you seem like an honest man." The Hutt said, "Tomorrow, I will be honoring the pod-racers for the Podrace scheduled in the early morning. You will be my hidden bodyguard during the race. This will give you the opportunity to locate the culprit."This sort of strategy was suicidal. But clever. It gave him some time, but Grievous eventually figured out the plot.

Grievous smiled inwardly. "You plan on luring the assassin out, giving him the idea that he has an open target. You do realize the risks?"

"I do, but I'm confident in you're skills. It's obvious why the Separatists would only take in skilled commanders _only_."

"Yes, I am," He arrogantly held a lightsaber for the Hutt to see, "But I prefer not to make a name for myself until my master gives me the word to do so for now."

"I understand completely."

Grievous chuckled lightly. "And how will this benefit me in return for my services?"

"My full compliance for the free passage of the Hutt system – though the money _will _be included."

Grievous accepted. "My employers have the money, all we need is confirmation."

"Excellent," Jabba slobbered.

"Also, my cruiser has been badly damaged during a skirmish during the trip here, it's approximately a mile away from here."

"I'll my mechanics haul it in the hanger and work on, in the mean time, enjoy the party."

"Ill try," Grievous muttered lowly.

The clients had already been filled to seven tall glasses by the time their conference ended. Grievous sat back in his seat, sounding out the distracting noises and music. A glass of red wine was brought forth to Grievous, in respect for Jabba, but Grievous did not touch the drink. He placed his claw-tip over the cold glass and gently pushed it a meter away. The minds of the slaves the Hutt owns are clearly poorly minded. But that was on the general's faults as well, he should have informed them that he lacked the ability to depend on nutrition, as his metal incasing and preserved organs were beneficial and were enough to sustain him. Or rather, the glass did provide personal audience for himself. He brought the glass close, tipping it side to side to watch the liquid swirl about, inspecting it before placing it back to its originated position.

Reflexively, Grievous' eyed his slave under the covers of his cape. She had sat where he had told her, completely hidden from eyes of the guests; he followed her stares to the revealing slave girls performing their seductive dancing. The horrified expression Grievous could easily see gave him a sense of fulfillment, at last she was suffering, perhaps foreboding of her fate ending similar to the rest of the slave girls. Grievous would have been more than happy to hand the brat over, but he had his orders to keep her alive until Dooku would finally come to claim her. She was lucky, this time.

A thought boggled Grievous, and beckoned for the white Twi'lek to his side.

"I ask for a favor in return for my services."

The White Twi'lek, Fortuna, swiftly turned guarded. "That will depend on the favor itself."

"Instead of selling my slave, I ask for you to have you're slaves train her for the time being."

"An excellent suggestion. I'll have her administered when the music dies down a bit."

"Perfect."

Settled in mind, Grievous commanded the white Twi'lek to lead him to a room with a built-in holocam to contact his master. He could only ask for what luck the gods could grant him and hope that his master would accept the terms.

* * *

I couldn't take it much longer. My eyes forced away from the obscenity of the performance, my stomach clenched forcefully. I could sense their pain, their torture, and suffering. It was all happening so fast for me to perceive. The clothes, the disgusting purpose of their dance, everything. I can't take this pain, it was unheard of, something I have yet to experience fully to understand, and it ached my entire body both physically and mentally. I don't care if he'll get mad; I wanted to leave this atmosphere.

I brought my legs up, and hurried down the hallway without haste, my forehead creasing under my cloak with anxiety. My stomach churned horribly again, and this time, it forced its way up. I clamped my hands over my mouth, went to the nearest vase, threw back my hood, and vomited. I coughed and wheezed, my world moving on its own. A nasty aftertaste made everything worse, and I was too woozy to fight it back.

I hate this place already; I hate everything, especially that fat Hutt. It was his fault for forcing those poor defenseless women into this horrible lifestyle. Forcing themselves upon craving clients just to make a living, or, to survive even. It was all too painful. And it made me hate myself for not having the power to stop it all. Moreover, why didn't the Jedi stop this? Master Plo Koon did mention the working of the underworld, but he didn't inform me of this. I thought he of all people would do something to stop this. With a preceding reputation the force had bestowed him by birth; my master could easily have these criminals on their knees. It all didn't make sense to me. But then again, my mind failed to make to any rational explanation.

I don't understand.

* * *

The Holo-projector was fitted in the center, surprisingly operational despite its poor condition. With what Grievous could determine at mind, everything was in place for a proper transmission with little problems.

"It's the least glitchy." Was what he heard from the snoopy Twi'lek. Grievous had to disagree, just by glance it would look as if it could fall apart if he were to touch it slightly.

But, time was of the essence, and the general would have to chance it. He tacked in the proper keys and transmission input, making sure he was not being secretly recorded before relaying the Holo-image to life.

It took some time until his master finally appeared, yet the image was more blurred than what usual Holo-projectors could compute.

"My lord," his voice said automatically, his body bowing at the same time simultaneously. It felt like a habit, something he was supposed to do when in the presence of his master. He couldn't think too hard about his actions, his mind wouldn't allow it for some reason. Again he didn't think of it, and continued to speak. "I have confirmed a sure agreement with the Crime lord. He is willing to sign the treaty for the Hutt systems."

"Very good. A mission hardly difficult when using money to alter to our liking," his stern, alien eyes wandered past the general. "Where is the youngling?"

"She is occupied with other matters, sir."

"Do not lose her, general. I remind you she is vital to our cause."

"I understand clearly, my lord. I have her on track, she is harmless at the moment."

"Very good." He was about to sign off before Grievous abruptly barked a "Wait," and ultimately earning a silent, scornful glare in response.

"Is there something troubling you, general," he asked, deeply unconcerned. He knew he didn't want to deal with him at the moment.

"I did. . . have to agree to certain terms to meet his approval, however."

Dooku's eyes widened. "Agree to what kind of terms, General?" His master demanded harshly, breaking his calm demeanour in an instant.

"My services, my lord."

"For what?"

"Presently, the Hutt has an assassin set to murder him. He asked for my help for his full compliance. That is all."

"And without my permission you accepted?"

"-only to prevent our treaty from being ruined! If the Hutt were to be killed, then we would have no alternative for trade routes," Grievous shouted, "I did what was necessary to get this mission done, "he said.

Dooku scrutinized his eyes in frustration, anguish and anger was what could be described from his facial expression at the moment. Into which, Grievous held no weight of remorse in his words, it did not leave him faltered or in despair from his baleful masters unholy presence. At this time, there was an indescribable silence befalling them as the tension grew as did the Sith Lord's temper.

All of a sudden, anger was gone and in its place took over peace and dispassion.

"Have you found any evidence leading to the culprit?" Dooku asked, monotone.

"No, my lord. I have yet to conduct any investigation at this moment."

"Proceed without haste. This treaty must be taken care if we are to provide our army with the proper weapons."

"I understand, my lord."

Grievous, again, bowed robotically.

"End transmission."

At last the Holo-image receded into the projector. Whirring dangerous, the Holo-projector deactivated automatically, moaning in distress as the engine cut off. Grievous cautiously took a step back. He didn't want to be blown to bits.

Stress overtook his breathing, and Grievous was forced into another coughing fit before catching himself. He felt for the headdress for comfort, ailing him in controlling his respiratory.

"Thank the gods," he sighed.

To put it exact, Grievous didn't know what to do. He was getting way over his head, to a point where the most calmest being would have lost sanity and cracked at the pressure if not commit something harmful to end this stress-killing misery. He figured he would have to search the other guests first before anything else.

He shook his head. He went to look for his slave, Ahsoka, to make sure she still obeyed his previous command. But, knowing her short attention span, Grievous half-assumed she was not.

* * *

The world pertained to be so little, and too twisted to evaluate.

Everything gained a different objectivity, my legs moving to their own desires. Where then, my back reached concrete wall and the nausea dissipated.

In the mid-second of my fit of grogginess, a different tune, not identical to the music and dancing, lured my eyes to the side-corner of the stairs, about five-steps half reaching the lower floor. A Nautolan, after processing with what left attentiveness I willed, bore a black tattoo around the right side of his face with two recent burnt scars, was speaking to another voice in undertone.

My eyes kept its perspective, guiding me near the conversing of the two, until my brain had the amount of sense of stopping my feet further.

The Nautolan saw me there after I coughed and gagged. To where a voice of danger was what my eyes could not see, my head clarified it as potential danger and drove my legs round, adrenaline pumping them all the way to the other end of the hallway. I felt the man come up behind me, his voice not leaving, only growing.

External senses moved my legs faster, yet the lump in my throat suppressed a sound of cry or assistance. The sores – and bruises, dug inside my thigh muscles, weighing my speed back and furthering my impendent doom. Left of a turn, I ran into a cold immobile white statue. Wobbling a bit, and at a start of catching my breath, I willed back and saw nothing had presented itself in pursuit.

Then came the pain, shortly, in the back of my neck. I pulled back from my pursuer, raising my arm in erect to fight solid. It was caught in vise and twisted over my head, I gasped.

"Where were you?" came a rasped voice.

That voice popped a nerve in my memory. During the time period of loss in reality, I saw in time that the very obstacle I came in contact with – was my wrathful _master_.

"Speak!" he screeched at my face, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him. He inspected my drunken form, and hissed. "Are you drunk?"

"No. . . " I choked, still trying to ease the knot in my stomach. "It's this place. . . the suffering. . . my mind can only handle so much."

My words left the general befuddled. "What?"

"The force allows us to feel the hearts of others," I restated. "I can feel their pain."

"You're connections with the force wears my patience, slave."

"Then . . . you're collar is not completely perfect after all."

I heard a faint smirk. "I'll make sure to modify its security after this mission then."

He tore me out of the darkened familiar hallway, and hauled me away. For some unethical reason, my perspective with my surroundings started to clear. I sensed Grievous' compulsive anger emitting, unable to determine his motives. Forcing me to follow, I weakly took a glance from behind and could not find the Nautolan that chased me. Then I turned to Grievous, who turned a corner into a direction where the faint smell of perfume occupied the air. My headtails tingled.

"W. . . where are you taking me?"

"The Hutt has accepted my favor of placing you amongst his own, and be trained." He stated. "I'll have you trained even if I have to spend every ounce of my strength to break you."

"Fat chance," I breathed, groggily.

He snarled and threw me in the only possible room with the appropriate amount of lights.

There were women, both Twi'lek and human, focused on me, as if, expecting. Their design of outfits, or suits – or whatever, preceded them in their class. I was horrified.

I turned on Grievous angrily

"What is the meaning of this, _Grievous_?"

He stared at me malignantly. "Isn't it obvious, child? These dancers are going to train you for the time being."

"What kind?"

"The usual."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I'll sell you to the Hutt," He threatened. He wasn't joking around. "I'm sure he'll treat you very nicely considering you're age and _wonderful_ personality." He cackled.

I glared. "I bet this is the punishment then, isn't it Grievous?"

He patted me on the head tenderly with a vile expression, it sickened me to the core.

"Behave, slave. I'll come fetch you tomorrow morn. Learn well from you're teachers," he said before shutting the door between us, cutting his yellow-crazed gaze from piercing my soul any longer.

Goddamn him.

After a moment to get myself together, I faced what looked like a dozen of slaves, all in scanty clothing – or rags, I couldn't tell, staring back. Bowing, I introduced myself humbly.

"Hello."

They muttered the same, trying to get a good look at my face, viewing me as unimaginable miracle from what I can tell.

The large room, surprising large enough for the girls to fit in, was provided with mirrors and cosmetics for the girls to apply themselves with. I didn't want to be touched by any of those, they'll have to fight me to get that stuff on my face.

A female woman of the human race was the first to come forth. She was very pretty, as pretty as the Female masters back at the Jedi Temple. I couldn't help but be a little jealous by her appearance, despite my tomboyish personality. She led me to a seat and picked out the only outfit that could fit my small frame. Again, I stood in complete shock at what I was suppose to wear.

I shook my head slowly. "No."

"It's the only outfit that'll fit you're size, gal."

"I guess." I gulped. "But does it have to be that. . . "I gulped again. "Revealing."

The other girls gave me a sympathetic pat on the back, they knew my discomfort. I basked in their support and knew that they were trying to help me the best way they can. It was the only way, and I knew that, and so did they.

My shoulders slumped. "Okay."

* * *

From the rest of the evening to night, Grievous lounged around with the rest of the audience inside Jabba's humble abode. Presently, there were criminal mastermind abroad, with the exception of slavers Grievous knew all too well, unfortunately. If not distinctive, he would consider one of the representatives to be of Karasak Slavers Guild whose sole purpose in existence was to pillage, waste in liquor, and deem any living organism as products to their desire. They were the most unsettling of all the groups, through the cyborgs eyes. But that was the least of Grievous internal vexation.

Grievous made it an effort to hide all evidence of the drinks of choice provided by the impudent servants. Each time an unsuspecting guest would fill his lust with scanty dancers, Grievous would exchange glasses to keep the illusion that he consumed. However, his efforts had the opposite effect in his favor. The woman would return with more drinks for him, until finally Grievous gave them a direct order not to serve him anymore. In their own defense, they were doing what they had been told to do. Grievous, still, felt no remorse for the girls and shoed them away angrily. They didn't bother him for the rest of the evening, gradually.

As the chorus came to an end, the audience dropped silent in urgency, as elegant scanty women – human and Rutian – exclusively, took center stage of the chamber and performed their seductive and skillful dancing. Having been trained in aerobics and present cultures of dancing, the dancers performed with grace – and beauty they were given at adolescence.

Grievous kept a watchful eye, particularly their movements. He watched as they hovered over the men, whipping around and presenting themselves to the drunken men, all awhile taking their belongings without their knowing – a forceful practice directed by the Hutt.

An unidentified person, outfitted with a chest plate covering the midsection, spaulders, a gorget that reached up to the man's V-helmet, and knee-high plated boots that tucked in the black pants and met the mans tunic. He took a left off the chamber, discarding his presence from the room without anyone knowing. Grievous followed in pursuit, exiting before the dancers could get to Grievous next, having felt their eyes on his lightsabers for awhile now.

Steadily Grievous stalked after the man without leaving any sound of existence, the gears that mobile the general's body moved smoothly – not scratching and wearing. He was as far as three corners away, sensing him around the corners of the halls and corridors. To his surprise, a blaster bolt came in near contact with Grievous' right antenna, burning into the wall with seeping black smoke. Grievous took no haste in ambushing the man, having foreseen the man pull his blaster at hand he caught his arm and pulled him at close range, punching him over the ribcage where the chest plate failed to protect. A sickening crack came as Grievous high-kicked the man with his knee-cap plate, and threw him across the hallway.

Grievous cackled.

"Surrender assassin."

The man shook his head and made a swift move to his side-pouch and released a smoke grenade. Grievous retracted and covered his eyes from the thick smoke; quickly he swiped and found that man had left. A sound was caught by the general's hearing, he followed in time to see the man's retreating form turn a right near another chamber.

Grievous turned, and nearly ran over a small Twi'lek woman alone and frightened. He turned his eyes side to side of the possible exits and saw nothing nor sensed.

He turned to the woman, and demanded, "Did you see anyone come by?"

She shook her head, cowering by his tone of voice, and with the absence of his cloak, was given a full view of his appearance. Grievous swiftly threatened her that she had seen nothing and left after recovering his cape and covering his identity once more.

Mercifully, he left the woman alone in the dark and went back to the party. No one noticed his absence as Grievous found his way back to the audience chamber, lounging in his seat in the nick-of-time when the dancers ended their performance and retreated backstage.

Jabba regarded for Grievous.

Grievous coughed. "Yes. Most entertaining."

While an encored started, Grievous singled the music out and was left with his thoughts.

So the fat Hutt was right with his findings, someone was a betrayer amongst his own. And by the looks of it, the perpetrator was a mercenary for hire, if not then a lowlife bounty hunter.

Smirking under his white mask, Grievous knew he was going to enjoy tomorrow.

* * *

Omg its back. Hallelujah. The long await is over. But I hope this chapter wasn't too boring for you guys but I promise that the next and following chapters will be worth while so please bear with it for now.

Its summer. I will be taking a break from all of this, I've already got the 8th chapter close to completion along with several ideas, until then I'm gonna chill and enjoy a well needed cold soda.

Coca-Cola biotch

Enjoy!


	8. Chapter 8

The Culprit

Pod Racing.

The most popular sport known in the lesser regions of the galaxy.

The Podracers themselves were small, one-man repulsorcraft, composed of an anti-gravity pod propelled by one or more pairs of large turbine engines. The engines were linked by power couplings consisting of plasma discharges, connected to the pods by lone Steelton cables. These were the basic necessities for a powerful machine to pull off such speed in this deadly terrain. And besides housing the racer's pilot, each pod contained a repulsorlift engine that kept the craft at a specific, low-leveled altitude, with tremendously powerful built-in turbines connected by an energy binder that kept them from detaching. The Podracers usual speed was approximately around 900 km/h. Although having little interest in the works of machinery, Grievous favored the sport respectively. It was dangerous, and it required actual piloting skill to it pull it off. It was a sport to be taken serious and to be taken lightly can cost one's own life along with the remains of its Podracer.

_The Outer Rim's sports are truly fascinating._

Grievous summed. Appareled in the same grey cloak that covered his cybernetic body, and mask shaded under its overly-draping hood, Grievous could easily wander around the Mos Espa Grand Arena with ease without worry of having his existence exposed. He just had to keep from drawing attention towards himself, which was uncomplicated. Most of the spectators were too mesmerized by the thunderous roars the racers emitted from their vehicles. If not for his assignment, Grievous would have joined. Such a place reminded him of a sport with a similar nature—a death defying nature—back at his home planet, Kalee.

_Muumuu-Fighting. _

Yes, he could remember the large domed-structures where the game was held, in the very center of Kaleela, Kalee's capital city. The sport was greatly favored by the many tribes that thrived on the planet. Grievous even remembered a time when he, too, partook. And he would remember the glory, the enthusiasm and good-cheering of his people, and, at one time, he even put on a show humorously.

"Sir."

Oblivious, Grievous had failed to notice one of Jabba's loyal servants approaching him. Grievous detested being disturbed, even on the job. The servant himself was scrawny and straight-out weak, which displeasured the general's mood more so. The very sight of a weakling who dared tread before his path would be his last act as Grievous would have swiftly cut him down. There was no room for weaklings, and Grievous was not one of them. Fixating himself in hunch-ward position, the general turned to face the servant who stopped short in his tracks once he caught Grievous' tempered glance.

"My master wishes to have a moment of you're time," the mortal spoke.

"Does you're master not remember that I am currently occupied?" Grievous snapped.

"I don't know, sir. He gave me a strict order, however, to tell you that his request is urgent."

"I don't care. I don't have time for this; I have my duties to take care of."

"It will only be for awhile—"

"Are you suggesting that I am lying in my position and just laying about out for curiosity. That I, in fact, have the spare time to converse socially, servant-boy?"

"No! Never! Please sir. . . ."

He was about to send a more vicious threat, portending the evil he beheld for the creature's persistence, until he caught eye of the slave's facial structures. Beneath those death-ridden eyes lied deep contempt and strong independence not common in a slave. The man was casually dressed as well, perhaps too well. Was he even a servant person at all?

The slave, still, despite the general's previous protest, pursued further with his master's request. The miserable creature just wouldn't quit.

"S-sir-"

"What!"

"I forgot to mention that the request does concern . . ." the man moved closer, eyeing a few foreigners walking. "Concerning the assassin incident my master briefed me in recently."

Now that was different.

"Very well, lead."

The cyborg then proceeded after the servant, following his chaperone at a fair distant so that he won't be agitated by his hovering guest. Passing the crowd, Grievous ventured through the Hutt's special room where they could watch the race without disturbance. And there, sitting surprisingly comfortable despite the circumstances, Jabba had his eyes glued to race. Shoeing the servant-boy from his side, who left soundlessly, Grievous came up from behind the Hutt gangster— and coughed lightly to make his presence known.

The Hutt flinched by the sound. And when he turned, Grievous wasn't sure if the Hutt recognized him from under his disguise. It took him a moment before he did.

"You called."

Jabba slathered his lips for moisture before speaking in his natural foreign language.

**_"I have made sure all my guards are posted on all exits and entrances and inspecting all occupants attending the race—racers included."_**

Paused. Grievous contemplated the situation, and then rose in a fit of mental anger as he started thinking that the ulterior reason this slug summoned him was to tell him of his_ interference_ in Grievous' work—wasting time that should be spent on tracking. Then again, what the gangster was doing did cover more ground. Grievous had to get past the grating tone to speak.

"Very good, lord Jabba-"

**_"But still this assassin is capable of foiling my efforts—even in my own territory," _**the Hutt gangster gurgled**_. "What will it take to apprehend the culprit?"_**

"Assassin's are cunning, Lord Jabba," Grievous said, respectively. This dimwitted Hutt couldn't possibly be thinking that the situation would be that easy. Assassins were keen, deceptive, and above all deadly. Worthy opponents worth the challenge indeed. "I assure you, Lord Jabba, I am operating to the full capacity of my abilities," Grievous tipped his trophy with his free hand to show his temporary-employer his worthiness. Freshly buffed and prepped for future confrontations, the lightsaber glistened mystically for its genuine purpose.

**_"You better not. Otherwise you'll have a difficult time having you're treaty signed."_**

"I know the risks," Grievous perked. "On more pressing matters, I wish to know the types of necessary precautions you are undertaking." After his first sudden surprise—a.k.a. orange brat—Grievous couldn't bear another.

Jabba's eyes fell into slits, and gurgled.**_ "I have twenty-three guards stationed at each entrance and exits; no one enters or leaves without notification and a two-minute search."_**

Grievous approved the preparations gradually. That was about as far as they could cover without any suspicion, no one needed to know unless they were internally involved—and there were few. And by few Grievous regarded to the guards only.

**_"This is the list of the guards who are involved." _**Jabba motioned for his servant-boy at his side. The servant-boy came forth, fiddled with the datapad in his hands, and gave it up to the general's awaiting claw. **_"All should be listed with their appropriate backgrounds and professions."_**

Grievous looked over each profile carefully. There were twelve Gamorrean's, eight Weequay, and three human. All with their own nefarious backgrounds, capabilities that made them unique, including their past crimes against the law.

When Grievous clicked to the next profile, however, he was in complete astonishment. Wearing a chest plate covering his midsection, spaulders, gorget, and a V-helmet. The human's name was Gurrall Oi, a wanted terrorist. It was him, the man Grievous was sure he faced last night at the palace. There was no need to explain it to the Hutt now—nor last nights incidence—it would only cause the gangster to make rash decisions blindly and further put himself at a risk and less protected.

"Lord Jabba." Grievous held the datapad to the Hutt's face. "Where is this man?"

"**_Gurrall?_** " Jabba's eyes widened suspiciously, "_**I'm not sure. I shall ask one of my guards as to his whereabouts**_." He gestured for the guard nearest**_. "Harikk!"_**

The guard came forth, clad in a peculiar variety for bounty hunter, and bowed. "Yes sir."

"**_Where is Gurrall?"_**

"Gurrall?" The man tried the name, until at last he remembered. "Aw yeah! Gurrall! Yeah, he said someting bout checking ta north area before catching a break. After tat I haven't seen hide or tail of 'm."

"When was that?" Grievous demanded sharply. "When!"

The man held his hands up protectively when he saw the cyborg nearly come at him. "I don't know!—like tree hours ago."

"So you haven't conversed with the man since then."

"Yes, sir."

"Where is he listed now?"

"In ta south exit of ta Mos Espa Pit Hanger where they keep all ta Podracers."

With enough said information to get him started, Grievous turned to the Hutt Gangster. The look in Jabba's eyes made the general hesitant with his own words; there wasn't a hint of trust lurking in those disgusting eyes of his. Perhaps a little information would suffice to get him back with a cooler head.

"I believe this man to be a possible suspect in my pursuit." That was as much as he would give him, nothing more and nothing less.

**_"Are you suggesting that my guards are plotting against me?"_**

"I'm not sure," Grievous lied almost too perfectly.

**_"You may proceed with my permission then, the Podrace is about to begin and time is of the essence."_**

Did he really think he needed permission to kill? The fat lard was not his master; no one was—but the Count and the Count alone. Other than that, Grievous had his own mind to tell himself what to do and where to go. There was no programming or circuitry, only a mind.

Grievous went straight to the Pit Hanger in a hurry, uncaring if anyone noticed his urgency. He just couldn't to be near that filthy Hutt any longer.

The Pit Hanger was empty when Grievous arrived—completely empty. There wasn't a single guard in the pit, or so it seemed. Grievous stayed nearest to the third entrance, programming his prosthetic claws to make a grab for his lightsaber when the time comes. "Gurrall?" Slowly, he stalked towards north exit which was fifty yards away. "Gurrall?"

Against the blistering rays Tantooine's two suns gave off, a vague figure sprinted across and out of sight. Grievous' eyes saw it clear as sky, the armor was very similar and the helmet was no different then from their last encounter. Grievous sprang into action, cutting through the thick air with inhuman speed. It was during these times that the general became aware of what he truly was and the kind of talents that he can perform—only a being such as he could do.

Just when Grievous was about to catch up, the man made a sharp turn and into a crowd of spectators trying to vacate the west stands. Following the trail of pushed-over pedestrians, Grievous had difficulty trying to catch up to the man. When one man toppled over and fell on the general's talons by mistake, incidentally crushing him in process, Grievous lost the guard in the crowd. Cursing in his alien tongue, Grievous removed himself from the West area before anyone noticed the dead mean at his feet.

* * *

The incompliance in Ahsoka's mental struggle as the room darkened more so than usual complicated further in the hideous acts she partook. Her heart burned under the rags she was subjected to parade around in—throbbing endlessly with no end. With her mentality at its brink, Ahsoka struggled to endure her abuse if she wanted to stay alive and out of trouble. But one can only handle so much.

At key, Ahsoka twisted her hips to the correspondence of her teachers, throwing herself around like them with her headtails following after her, conducting properly to the music.

The music would stop abruptly, and the she would immediately freeze in an awkward pose like a mannequin.

"Again."

The music restarted, and so did Ahsoka. As the song played on, watched by the perceptive and vulgar, Ahsoka closed her eyes as her only means of defense. Besides the throbbing pain burning her muscles murderously, blood was still rushed to the short headtails into a more noticeable light blue.

Leg twisting, Ahsoka's waist twirled her body, and then unresponsively her left foot took a minor misstep.

"Again."

Pain was building in her legs and hips, stinging as she forced her muscles to comply with the music. During which, Ahsoka attempted to divert her attention to something else – like the whereabouts of Grievous. Where he went, Ahsoka did not know, but a little voice frightened the idea that he must have sold her after all. Oh stars help that he didn't, even if he despised her greatly he wouldn't do such a thing. Would he?

Ahsoka heart told her he would.

He doesn't care about her. Otherwise she wouldn't be doing _this_. He was a Separatist, and she was a Republican. Yet not even politics and morals could define their differences. He was against peace, she was for it. He wills his weapon for the kill; she willed hers to bring peace. He's the monster, and she the peacekeeper. Both complete opposites, unable to define or look for the true understanding of one another; they build a gap that had been waging on since the time of war between their separate sides. Ahsoka had always felt as though she could not reach to his better side with her begging, his heart was too heavily vengeful for her to soothe.

He was something completely beyond this reality - only a Sith Lord could create and domesticate.

Ahsoka moved to the right, swishing her hips side to side, her natural orange arms following in suit to the manner of liking. With grace, Ahsoka felt she could do better, but without the Force to guide her body, she was an inexperience dancer.

The Achilles tendon in both of Ahsoka's legs suddenly gave out, and she fell ungracefully. Her teachers looked down on her with remorse and dislikement, judging her with coldheartness. They made no attempt to help, not to a pathetic scrawny looking weakling of a Jedi-failure.

_Who would? I'm a failure._

Pain kept throbbing in Ahsoka's chest followed by a need to release her emotions all at once. Ahsoka wanted to scream and cry, her hardened blue eyes watering, yet she made her best efforts to keep from falling apart there and now.

"Again."

_Please, make this pain stop. Make it go away. _

As her body bid to her teachers orders, Ahsoka wondered: Where could he be?

_Grievous_

"Again."

Ahsoka thought that the pain would never end, until, at last, the music subsided into a silent whisper, and the dancers left her at peace. She was reminded that they will resume after a scheduled bath. But Ahsoka was too overjoyed from the word _bath_ to frown after that. With her best efforts, and extreme willpower to ignore the nails-stabbing feelings beating at her feet, Ahsoka physically instructed her body to follow the other slave dancers to the bathing room. But the walk made it all the more painful, yet at the same time made Ahsoka more so anxious for a well deserved bath. When was the last time she had taken a bath, she hadn't the slightest clue. And right now, the idea of actually taking one made Ahsoka believe it to be a dream. After all the beatings and shock treatments, Ahsoka has finally been blessed by the Force to find pleasure. Who could blame her for being cautious?

Ahsoka quickened her pace, her hopes for a bath giving her strength in each step. But as she continued down the path, she saw where the women slept and lowered her expectations. There were beds with plain mattresses—much nicer than the dirtied one Ahsoka slept in back at the castle—covered in muddied rags and ripped cushions she assumed to be blankets and pillows.

_At least they have pillows though. And it's warmer here. _

When they finally reached the bathing room at last, Ahsoka was overwhelmed with strong emotions.

The bathing room was . . . massive—and beautiful! There were four bathing pools, marble stairs leading to the larger ones that, at the end of its part of the flooring, opened into a waterfall-design into the two other pools below it. There were shampoos and other items of use on a large table off to the side.

Given two fresh towels, Ahsoka entered the side entrance leading to the lockers. She made quick work of undoing her suit, nearly throwing it into the closest vacant locker and wrapping herself with a towel before going back to the baths. By that time the other slave girls came soon after, all entering the pools while having casual conversations with one another. But Ahsoka was alone in her own hot-filled pool to enjoy.

Removing the towel wrapped around her body, Ahsoka placed it next to the pool, revealing in her naked form the numerous bruises she was still covered in, including the large bruise over her ribcage from her last incident with the psychotic cyborg. After watching the others dip in the warmth of the waters Ahsoka followed in suit, cautious at first, her Togruta instincts unhinged, slowly permitting her first leg to go first then the other, until Ahsoka was completely immersed. Her stripes turned brighter, blushing in tasty pleasure as she relaxed the knots in her muscles. She dipped again, and then resurfaced. It felt so good as it brought life back in her flesh, Ahsoka could already feel the aches in her feet begin to unknot.

Preparing to wash her headtails with the shampoo, Ahsoka felt the collar. She tipped it with her pointer finger, and eyed it malevolently. She completely forgot about the existence of it since she's been so used to wearing it nowadays. She felt for its smooth metal plating, and instantly remembered that horrid man.

_I hope he's happy_, she inwardly hissed. He tried to cut off her connection from the Force, but yesterday proved otherwise. Feeling the slightest sliver of self-pride, her face indulged in a twisted smirk of glory.

Ahsoka started washing her montrals before proceeding under her third headtail. When she was finished washing over her face, Ahsoka started at her own body, finally getting a chance to properly wash the dozens of scratches and bruises since her slave days. But as she bathed, Ahsoka started getting the feeling like she was being watched. At first she thought she was paranoid due to experience, but when she took a side glance, she could see the dancers taking glances of their own. And they weren't looking at her abuse; their eyes were more set on her collar. And from the way the dancers were staring at it, they were aware of its purpose.

Ahsoka immediately threw her left headtail over her shoulder, bringing up her shoulder as an effort to keep the short headtail put. It did little good, but it kept the others from staring at her further. The room fell distantly quiet after that, making Ahsoka feel at fault. The air soured into dread—whereas through the midi-chlorians view, insinuated Ahsoka of the immediate change.

With much difficulty due to lack of training, Ahsoka tapped into the force as best as she could. It did little good, and Ahsoka was starting to get impatient until at last she felt the faintest thread. Softly, carefully, Ahsoka struggled to touch the aura's that surrounded the women in hopes of understanding them better before confronting them if necessary. The thread rippled drearily from contact—what was it?—contempt?—pity? Did they pity her?

_No, _Ahsoka feared_. They're disgusted with me. They now know that I was once a Jedi, and here I am . . . brought down to their level. I'm so ashamed._

When all of the women were finished, Ahsoka followed from far behind. She just couldn't handle the constant disappointment anymore, especially from people who looked up to Jedi. She redressed quickly as soon as she got to her locker, keeping to herself and out of sight. When she was done, Ahsoka turned and ran into a mirror, and saw herself for the first time with her own eyes.

A slave.

Donned in scanty clothes, a slave collar, and eyes too lost to belong to a Jedi. Not anymore at least.

Hesitantly with shaken hands, Ahsoka touched the mirror as if to see was conspiring in front of her was real. Her reflection mimicked her actions, until both dimensions were touching each others fingers. This wasn't an illusion, or dark sorcery. This was real. Ahsoka's eyes grew wide with fright, fearfully taking steps back. Vague on her surroundings, Ahsoka fell over a bench, but her eyes were still fixated at the clumsy Togruta little girl on the other side of that monstrous reflection.

_This is me? It can't—no!_

Unable to control her ancestral instincts, Ahsoka forced her arms up protectively. She did not see the mirror at that time for Fear was giving her a different point of a view. A view fueled by fear. As if she were pushing against some invisible object in front of her, the force channeled from her hands and pushed against the mirror so hard that it caused it to crack into a twisted reflection of a girl with a cracked expression. She too was force-pushing back. Seconds later, both were shocked by the collar.

Alone to herself, with nothing but the loud huffs of heavy breathing, Ahsoka kept staring at the mirror—afraid. It took her a while before she refreshed from her small delirium, then slowly brought herself up from the cold flooring to turn to leave. Following her teachers out, Ahsoka took one safe glance back before leaving, making sure that horrid picture wasn't following her.

* * *

Halfway through the Podrace, Grievous was still on his hunt for the guard. After losing sight of him, Grievous couldn't find him again. Mentally exhausted, Grievous stopped in the middle of a secluded concession area. Out of mortal habit, Grievous pinched the bridge of his brow, trying to ease the stress he was so conflicted under. Grievous did appreciate the opportunity to be able to get some well needed action—and time away from his unruly charge; Grievous was beginning to miss the seclusion he once had. The peace as well, like on his planet where he could indulge himself with his people's presence, his traditions, and so much more. But no. The war was what kept him away, and it was war that filled the void of that emptiness that numbed inside him.

_My people. Without my services to the Federation, they would perish._

With a sudden crash of wind against his cape, followed by the soft silken jangle of the headdress' silka beads, Grievous felt all the strain of responsibility carried away with the dust-wind. He was grateful to have brought the headdress along with him, it brought peace to him when nothing else did. But, like always, it was disturbed fashionably.

Three guards came up to him with anxious looks.

"What is it?"

"We've found him, sir. We found Gurrall."

"And? Has he been captureded?"

"No, sir."

If he could, Grievous would have discarded the man's head like he would any droid—but he couldn't because this man didn't belong to him. He belonged to Jabba, and any desecration of his property would put Grievous at a bad level with the crime lord.

"And why not?" Grievous at last growled.

"Because he's dead, sir."

_What?_

The man was indeed dead when Grievous was brought to him. Having been moved to the back of the dark alleyway and positioned in such a comfortable position that it would make any passerby assume he was taking a nap. Grievous jabbed the man with his right talon, pushing the man over to fall completely to the floor. The other guards didn't seem at all bothered at that.

Grievous inspected the body carefully. A big struggle had occurred for the walls were scourged with blaster burns. His helmet was gone but the rest of his clothes were on. There were shades of bruising all over the human's face, his lip busted, ear burnt off clean, and his throat swollen. A blaster shot left its marks over the man's chest plate in the area of his heart. And judging by how cold stiff the body was and loss of color, the struggled most likely happened overnight while everyone else was too busy having fun with their party.

_I know it was this man. But if he was dead during lasts nights' confrontation, this complicates things all the more. It had to be him, there can be no other. He was the most liable for assassin recognition according to his profile._

Grievous narrowed his eyes on the man's hands in particular; there was blood on his hands. Not his, clearly.

"I want this blood analyzed at once," he was given blank stares. They were too busy taking glances at the lightsabers dangling at his belt—or they were taking glances at him. A strong whirl of wind had brushed his cape, getting caught in between his joints. He fixed himself up quickly and whirled towards the guards. "Now!" That got one of them to listen. He'll have no choice but to dispose of them later. The nearest guard grabbed the man's hand, and processed the blood on his datapad.

"Who found the body?"

"One of the guard's sir. A local person noticed the man last night and when he saw him this morning he panicked, thinking something was wrong, and called the closest guard he could find."

"Sir?" the first guard called.

Grievous acknowledged. "What is it?"

"I just received the results. The blood found on Gurrall's hands corresponds with the Clawdite species."

_Strange._

Grievous remembered the Weequay from Jabba's personal block; the other guard was there, too. Leaving to question as to who was protecting the crime lord right now.

"Who is guarding the Crime Lord?"

"We were told two other men would fill in for us—"

"If any change of posts was to be made then I would be notified," Grievous spoke.

"We're sorry sir. We didn't know."

Grievous growled and ran towards the Hutt's personal block. There was an eerie smoke coming from the block as soon as he arrived, and when Grievous proceeded, lightsaber ignited, he was too late. The servant, the annoying persistent one from before, was wielding a blaster near the Hutt's cranium. There were two guards on the floor, dead.

Grievous twirled his lightsaber. "I take it you were the assassin all along, changeling?"

"Yes, but it's too late now." Changing forms, the assassin revealed his true form. A Clawdite.

"For awhile, I really thought you _were_ Gurrall?" Grievous sidetracked, attempting to divert the man's attention.

"The guard was just to throw off any suspicion. Once I was sure you and the rest of the guards were fooled, I killed the servant-boy and took his place."

"Clever," Grievous commended. "But I wonder if this is for show, or with larger intentions?"

The guard smiled rascally. "We intercepted you're meeting back at Cato Neimoidia by chance and heard about you're little transaction." The assassin unveiled, proudly. "But since you shot down my accomplice, I'll take the credits all for myself. You will summon you're employers and send me the money."

"Greed can only take you so far," Grievous tsked. "I ask you. Once the rest of the guards come, do you still believe you can get away with this?"

"Perhaps not. But with the Crime Lord as my hostage." The assassin nudged his blaster against the Hutt's head to make his point. "I'm sure you'll do exactly as I say."

"I think not, you confuse me for a civilized being." Seeing his chance, Grievous threw his lightsaber at the man's arm, cauterizing it off in one swipe. The smell of burnt flesh was eminent. Jabba made a run for cover, surprisingly fast for a slug.

The man swiveled for the floor in pain, Grievous stalked towards the man maliciously after retrieving his trophy lightsaber.

"You're life ends here, foolish one."

Before he swung down his lightsaber, however, Grievous was interrupted by a flash of inner darkness that dwelled in his past.

_No. Not now._

_"Stop it!"_

Grievous blinked. Pausing for a second, staring out aimlessly.

_"Please, don't! Leave her alone!"_

_"Take aim."_

_His eyes widened._

_Gunshots boomed. He watched her fall, unmoving, her eyes looking up to him with sadness and love, until they went still and dark. He reached out for her and cried for her to move, to run away and leave his forsaken planet. But the woman did not. She did not move, or breathe, or stop bleeding from the blaster wounds protruding from her chest. _

Vaguely unaware, Grievous had stopped in his tracks as the overwhelming extremity of his past fell over him as if gravity itself was pushing him down with tremendous force.

Taking a slow breath, Grievous recollected.

Back to his senses, Grievous decapitated the assassin's head before he knew it, which rolled out of the block and into the crowd. A spray of blood filled the room, its smell beginning to linger by the amount. A roar of screams could be heard out in the crowds, but at that point Grievous was too blood-crazed at the sight of the blood to comprehend whether they were screaming—or cheering.

"Lord Jabba, now that you have no other distraction for me to mutilate. Perhaps now you will allow the Separatists passage through you're trade routes," Grievous rasped, pass negotiation. All patience gone. "I assume we have an agreement?"

The Hutt nodded without disagreement.

**"****_Agreed._****"**

* * *

"Bow."

Ahsoka was pushed down in an awkward bow, before being brought up straight. Two other females watched on as the Togruta child continued to complicate the training.

"You must bow."

"I wo-"Ahsoka was pushed down again.

"This exercise must be practiced little one. It's implicates to a master that his or her slave is obedient."

Ahsoka was brought up again, and this time her feral teeth were shining in the dark, glinting. Frustrated and tired, Ahsoka wanted nothing more than to go somewhere to rest.

"I can't—not to this man!"

"But you must, you belong to him do you not."

"No."

"You must accept you're fate if you want all of this pain to go away."

"I-"Ahsoka struggled with her words. "I just can't."

"Word is that you're master is returning after successfully aiding our master. Do you not wish to make his day all the more triumphant with you're allegiance? Do you not wish to satisfy him? Or will you force his hand and bring more misery upon you're soul?"

Ahsoka fell to the floor, all were watching. The slaves grew closer, their words sinking in. Things didn't make sense anymore. First, Ahsoka didn't know what she should claim herself to be anymore, most certainly not a Jedi for the title did not help—not a slave because she defied it's purpose. She has seen what the Republic ignores: corruption, black-market of a living being, war, crimes. She though the Republic brought everything to justice, but here she was. Witnessing what they ignore. And the Jedi Order, protectors of the peace, also did nothing to stop this. It was too much, all of it. Ahsoka could feel her mind boil like the sun.

Next thing she knew, Ahsoka was presented with another outfit. And this one was scantier than any other outfit she's seen.

"No."

"You're training is finished as of now, this is as much as we can teach you given the amount of time to prepare. In a couple of hours, a party will be held for you're master, and you will dance with the rest of the group in celebration."

It was all going by so fast, life just wouldn't pace itself for Ahsoka.

"But I-"

"You're master also wanted to give you a message before he departed," the voice drew closer, like a snake slithering after its prey. "If you disobey, they will pay."

Ahsoka felt her heart eat itself inside out, her forehead creased and sweated nervously. Would he really do the same he did with the servants back Neimoidia? He would, she just knew. He would to just about anything to get her in line. Even if it meant killing something precious to her. He's already using Plo Koon, he'll most certainly use these poor misguided women to get Ahsoka to obey.

She had no choice. Barring her feral predator teeth, Ahsoka mouthed, "I accept," before grabbing the outfit into her arms.

* * *

After returning to the palace, Grievous was welcomed back with an audience. But the general didn't feel comfortable with this—not yet at least—his identity must not be spread. This alone was bad enough, and he made sure Jabba kept his word to keep his associating quiet.

A party was to be held to commemorate his success, but this was known to most of the people who knew what was really going on, the rest were left with the assumption that the gangster desired another party. The party was the same as always. There were large quantities of desirable dishes for the audience, loud music, and dancers, all courtesy of Jabba the Hutt.

Sitting next to Jabba—a seat considered most highly—Grievous kept to himself, bored and uninterested with the party, finding the whole celebration unnecessary. What do they honestly think he is? He is a killer who killed on order. Given the word, Grievous would slaughter all of these occupants without a second thought and mutilate their bodies until not even the finest surgeon could determine where their organs started and ended. He would much rather return to his flagship and bask in warfare he so devilishly desired. This situation was merely a distraction.

"General," called a voice.

Grievous glanced and saw it to be Bib Fortuna. "What is it?"

"You're employers have been informed of the treaty and are now sending the money as we speak. My master is truly grateful for you're valiant efforts—."

"Has my cruiser been repaired? I wish to depart before the days pass."

"On standard time, the ship will be finished by morning—" Grievous gave the Twi'lek a malevolent stare that could have pierced the man in two. Bib caught himself quickly and gulped, "But if you wish it sooner, then I shall order the technicians to speed up the procedure."

"See to it that it is, or I will not be as passive as I am now."

"Yes, sir. It will be done." Before leaving the general alone at last, the Twi'lek turned once more. "I almost forgotten, sir. The servants have informed me that you're slave is finished and is ready to be presented."

"Excellent, at least this whole arbitration was not a waste of my valuable time."

"She will perform along with the rest of the dancers, so enjoy, sir." With that Bib Fortuna bowed as low as he could before leaving, Grievous was glad for that. The man was extremely annoying.

A different tune of music took place; Grievous saw that this must be the dance the majordomo was speaking of from before. About five Twi'leks came forth first in two rows, the pale one taking the lead with two Rutians and Lethans on either side. They twirled one rotation before turning on one another in a perfect circle with their arms crossed over their chests. Opening like a flower, two human females appeared. And Ahsoka was in the middle.

With all performers presented, the dance began.

It was amusing, a little awkward—but amusing. It sure kept Grievous' mind occupied. In fact, he was close to chuckling after seeing the Togruta pup perform her own solo. He didn't know whether to stop it and cackle to his hearts content—or enjoy the show as much as he could. He watched her move her hips along with the rest of the women in tune, each playing their own part of the dance to commemorate Grievous' success. He was just enjoying how this child was starting to look like a slave and less like a Republic dog. Excellent. It proved she was close to being tractable.

When the dance finally ended, each dancer bowed one after another. Jabba raise his hand, and the audience fell silent.

"**_This party is a celebration!_**"He gurgled, his interpreter-droid speaking in various languages soon after. "**_A celebration of how I, Lord Jabba the Hutt, can never be struck down from my dynasty. I shall live on!"_**

The audience clapped and cheered by the Hutt's words. But Grievous could see that some of the patrons were ill-stricken by his survival. So much for loyalty, but Grievous needn't care. His job was finished.

"**_General_**," The Hutt regarded. "**_Are_** **_you pleased by this celebration?_**"

Grievous nodded slowly. "Very. More so by how domesticated my slave has become. I'm glad that she has learned much during her stay." He saw Ahsoka now and flashed his bright yellow eyes at her. She looked away in turn. "She was no trouble?"

"**_Not at all, in fact, she's been very behaving_**."

"Good."

The Hutt beckoned for Ahsoka to come forth from the group, whom, after noticing the seriousness in Grievous' stare, came forth silently with her head dropped.

"**_Bow_**."

Grievous was taken aback. Bow? Would she really bow? Would this brat finally yield to her masters? Grievous eyed the Togruta intensely, watching her shivering body bend—his eyes widened just an inch—and at long last, saw her bow before him. His heart literally skipped a beat. Sent back with the others, Ahsoka hid behind the women, diverting her body at angle so that he could not see her. Jabba sent them away, and the party resumed.

Before leaving, Ahsoka turned to take a glance back at the general. Grievous beckoned her to follow the rest of the group; he'll deal with her later.

When the party ended, Grievous was chaperoned to his room and left to himself—which he was thankful for. The room was large with a queen-sized bed with lavishing pillows and blankets most likely stolen, and furniture to match it. Grievous occupied himself to the bed, sighed, and threw back and laid on the bed. It did little good since he could not physically feel the softness of the pillows, but it did help in sense. For once, Grievous was able to enjoy the loneliness he longed for. Though he would much rather enjoy the toils of death, Grievous needed the quietness right now. The most logical explanation of this is because of how stressed and overwhelmed he's been in the past few days. After all, he's had his claws practically tied with the Togruta girl. It hasn't been easy.

Suddenly the entrance opened, and the person who entered made Grievous want to curse at the gods.

Covered in a black robe, Ahsoka walked up to Grievous at distance from the bed—but she didn't move further. She just stood there with her face burning brightly and her stripes more noticeable. Grievous titled his head to the side, clearly perplexed by her action.

"Don't laugh."

Again, Grievous was perplexed.

"What are you doing?"

"Just—Please! Don't . . ." Ahsoka dropped her chin, shaking her head lowly.

With a click, Ahsoka dropped her cloak to the ground and revealed herself. At first, Grievous thought she was wearing a bathing suit, but closer perception showed she was wearing a slave outfit. Too scanty though, and most certainly not his taste for a proper outfit for her age. Still, he _did_ enjoy that devoid face of hers.

She wore nettings with a black leather top that covered over her chest and round her neck—besides his collar-but left the sternum bare, the front zipper ending with a tiny rod-shaped emerald dangling over her sternum. Her stomach was covered in a black net that opened in a long oval shape at her belly button which also had an emerald gem clip-on—better be!—and finished at her black bikini panty, wit black net stockings and elbow-high hand stockings as well. In his mortal days, this would be considered something more tolerant for a maiden ready to be mated, but since he lacked the traits, Grievous was incapable of being tempted.

However, he still had his dark humor.

Just like the performance back at the party, Ahsoka began to dance in melancholy. She moved her hands over her body, falling further, until she crouched and twirled. She twisted and turned, dancing in silence, refusing to speak during her small performance. And when she ended, he could see how weak and tired she looked with all those bruises covering one fourth of her body.

After a silent moment, Grievous chuckled heartedly. Ahsoka glared.

"I said don't laugh-"

"My audio-receptors heard what you said, pup. I heard," Grievous cackled darkly. Bringing up his claw, Grievous tempted her to come closer to him. "Come here, little one. I wish to have a closer look at you." She slowly did, hesitant, her montrals shivering. Close enough, Grievous put his hands by his waist and looked Ahsoka over, relishing the shame the small girl was trying to hide. "Good girl."

Under the impression of terrible harm, the Togruta child flinched as she felt a pair of claws pluck her from the earth's surface and replaced in an area her master felt more convenient: his lap.

* * *

Sitting in a place where even the boldest trembled, Ahsoka, petrified, attempted to open her mouth to produce any indication of revolt, distress, anything to express her obvious discomfort. All that came out was air, a silent monotonous whisper of breath over-toned by the audible beating of life and an unhealthy hack.

Ahsoka wanted to leave, but the second her body moved a centimeter out of place, a cold surface touched the side of her right cheek. Ahsoka immediately returned to her original state, shocked by his action. Grievous was caressing her.

Ahsoka snapped her eyes shut, catching her breath by the sudden act of care given to her.

"Look at me, little one."

Ahsoka shook her head, her eyes still locked tight into a safer scene of black. Softly yet forcefully, two smooth claws cupped the Togruta's face and angled her to look upward. Spatially aware of her surroundings, she could sense him move closer to her face. And, as she already knew well enough, those same pairs of golden eyes were probably staring down at her right now, piercing through the very innocence of her soul.

At that very moment Ahsoka forgot how to use her respiratory system after a marble-smooth surface of the devil's face touched the top of her forehead. That was the first time she felt the actual texture of his mask. Her headtails burned. And when that sensational cold touch an organic can never produce removed itself from her forehead, Ahsoka heard a melodic purr that made her whole spine run cold and prickle.

"_Look at me_."

This voice, completely different from its customary enmity, lulled Ahsoka to submit. Eyelids at last opened, her blue eyes met a sharp set of gold. They were softer than she expected, less guarded and more serene. Ahsoka almost forgot where she was right now.

"Truly a sight to behold."

Ahsoka winced. She wanted to turn away badly, but some part of her just couldn't. A part of her that didn't want to get hurt anymore, no more pain.

"Tell me child," Grievous drew nearest, brushing against her headtail slightly, taunting her. "Do you still think you can defy this much longer? Just the sight of you has shown how far I've brought you down. Very slowly, you are falling."

Keeping together what little strength Ahsoka still had, she hissed. "I will not fall, not to you."

"Humorous. But I can see it clearly, and you know it."

_I do. And I'm so ashamed._

"No!" Ignoring that broken voice, Ahsoka clamped over both her montrals. "No. . ."

* * *

Observing the child tremble and break, Grievous couldn't help but notice the dark circles under her eyes. She shivered in his lap, at the point of tears.

An idea came to mind.

"I have an offer."

The Togruta was still shivering, Grievous wasn't sure if she heard or not. But when her shoulders went limp and she slowly looked up to him, Grievous continued.

"It's simple, really. Because of how you've been such a _good little girl_, I'll reward you graciously." The child's eyes grew comically wide. "I'll allow you rest on this bed _if_. . . you bow like you did before and thank me for all the consideration I've wasted on you."

Ahsoka revealed her disgust. "You can't be serious?"

"I always am."

"And you expect me to throw away my dignity just like that?" Ahsoka questioned with a sand-scraping voice, reminding the general of her species predatory ancestry. "You're treating me like a child."

"That's obvious."

She crossed her arms and pursed, "No."

"You are tired, little one," Grievous reminded her, and secretly she knew. "It is clear."

Ahsoka dropped her arms immediately. Grievous watched her struggle with herself, patiently watching her go frustrated, dreadful, then sullen. She looked to him and tried to speak, at the same time keeping her eyes from drooping. She was indeed tired.

"T-thank you. . . "She hissed under her breath.

Grievous cupped his right audio-receptor antenna, inching closer. "Pardon? I didn't quite catch that."

"Thank you!" she wailed.

"A little creativity wouldn't hurt either."

"Oh, come on—"

"I'm waiting," He hissed. And this time he glared at her ferociously.

Ahsoka gave up after that. She screamed.

"Thank you for all of your care and consideration of taking care of me, Grievous!"

Grievous smiled from under his mask. He massaged the right nub on top Ahsoka's head, her montral.

"Good, keep this up and I'll do this more often. And now I reward you."

Taking the now whimpering child, whom was now covering her face in utter shame, he placed her on the queen-sized bed, caressing down her bare shoulder as he sat next her. Her whimpers turned to soft trembled moans, till at last she stopped. Her breathing became more rhythmic and less hyperventilating. Finally, Ahsoka was sleeping.

Grievous removed himself from the bed, and then turned to take a gander at his progress.

Weak, unprotected, insignificant, and so easily corrupted this child was. And in this time of war, everything can be altered towards a darker outcome. All it took was a few warships, blasters, battledroids, and patience. Most of all patience. And that was what Grievous was doing now, being patient with his charge. Waiting for the dark outcome: for her to fall.

Grievous sat next to the bed-side, resting his mind until morning.


	9. Chapter 9

First Time

"The trade routes you've acquired this day will be put the full usage of their purpose. You're efforts are truly appreciated, general."

Grievous took the approbation from his master with surprise, for praise came little to rarity with the Sith.

The general gave into his master the appropriate bow, "My efforts couldn't have been more helpful had I lacked you're training, my Lord," Grievous expressed from under his mask, making sure his thanks were known. With a risen arm, the general was gestured by his master to rise before him once again.

Having just returned from the sand-infested terrain of Tatooine, Count Dooku instantly stationed the general for yet another military operation requiring his level of expertise. Grievous was more than eager—greatly grateful, as well—and left with the thought that the count was becoming more and more trusting of his prized creation. He neither argued his reasons or true objective, instead follow his master's lead with the comforting knowing that everything his superiors planned was for the good of the Separatists alliance.

The senior Sith then produced a small holo-image of a planet in the palm of his hand. "You're next assignment is to liberate this planet of its Republican influence. That said, the populations themselves are quite keen as to the finer intricacy of bioweaponry, talents highly depended on by the Republic." Widening the view, there was an abundant number of republic war-ships posed in standardized defense blockade. Grievous could see the specific areas in which the blockage was more heavily guarded, specifically in areas where most of the populace thrived in. It would have to take a massive fleet just to break through. But the general determined no other dilemmas.

"I will need a large amount of troops in order to break through the blockage. Jamming their transmissions for support will also minimize any problematic situations," Grievous surmised as he went. "Liberation would be completed within one standard hour at most."

Dooku took to the information gradually.

"See to it that you do. Once we've predominate this planet, and captivate the workers will to our cause, the Republic will be left with a large gap in support that will leave them weakened."

"Consider it done, my Lord."

Before Grievous could leave the briefing room to the befitting quarrels of warfare, his master summoned him back.

"General, I am not finished."

Grievous made small curses under his audio receptors too low for the Count to hear. He darted toward the Sith, crossing his arms across his plated sternum in a manner of notable impatience. Was it not his duty to bid to his master's whim without haste? To put it simply, Grievous wanted nothing more to be away from his master and at last and to do what he felt in his mind more proper for his time: to kill and serve.

"What is it?" Grievous rasped, doing his best to hide his impatience.

"The child."

"What of her?" Grievous quickly caught his tongue, then cut in, "my lord," after catching Dooku's observant eyes narrow.

"For obvious reasons I wish know her wellbeing, and loyalty."

Grievous took a small pause, thinking over with his thoughts before speaking. Truthfully, she had not attempted any foul play or deceive him of their bargain, nor escape his custody. And any further resistance had been left in a settlement back on palace. But her attitude in general still needed adjustment.

"She has come a long way. . " Grievous paused, his mind skipped between telling the truth or lie to his face. Lie that the child was indeed behaving and the general had things under control, or, tell the truth of her constant disrespect. But that was out of the question. The general could never coerce himself to mislead the count, less make it far worse whence he knew truth for himself. ". . . yet after making multiple attempts to break her, she still proves to be quite the handful when it comes to minding superiors."

The count frowned at the news in distaste.

"How unfortunate. The child can't possibly be that big of a problem for you handle, is it?"

If it weren't for the duranium mask, the Count would have seen his loyal commander scowl. Grievous, offended, disagreed with his master's assumption. But he didn't speak out even though he refused to be made the incompetent one. He couldn't.

"Does she disobey you frequently? I will not tolerate such behavior, and these flaws will be accounted on you're failure."

The child's behavior was being accused on Grievous' behalf? The count was accusing him of encouraging it, no doubt, when really, Grievous has made every attempt to train the child when time presented itself. Grievous held back the impending hiss he so wished to express. "But the child has a strong independency. And furthermore, she only proves herself to be a nuisance in my company. She attests herself to be maladroit in any form of skill you might mistake for talent. I only wish that you take her away as soon as you can."

"That is unacceptable. This independency must be broken, and I will remove her from you're custody when I see fit, general. Once you finish the capture of this planet, I will arrive soon after to explain the new governmental arrangements for the people and their abilities, until then I want the child's complete obedience."

The cyborg's metal talons grated the metal flooring in aggravation. The general had other priorities that were of far more importance than a wretched pup to nurture. Clenching his claws into fists from under his cape, Grievous bowed as a final after something in the back of his mind coaxed him to relent.

"I'll see what I can do."

With a curtly nod, the Sith's image dissolved into the hologram. Grievous turned and quickly left to his ship's bridge to bark orders for departure.

"Begin preparations for our attack, and send a signal for additional forces to our fleet," Grievous commanded quickly, stalking towards a large projector of the planet of which is his target.

While gorging himself with the full brunt of his authority, Grievous' servant sat immobile next to his seat in the middle of the bridge. There, Ahsoka was doing as she was instructed—surprisingly—making herself non-existent during their travels, redressed in her proper servitude clothing.

Grievous stepped down the lower levels where the droids were and eyed the blockade hologram with intensity, scanning for possible flaws. Had the populace areas not been so heavily protected, Grievous would have drawn his attention there first. But the blockade diminished any possibility of the cyborg tyrant attempts. There were at least four central blockading areas, each with their own fleet stationed in particular spots. Once he jammed their transmissions, target and eliminate the main stations, and blocked off exit points for evacuations, Grievous would have the planet in his hands. The planet would have no choice but to surrender for the safety of their Republic-loving inhabitants. A predictable outcome.

"Begin jamming all connection sources once we've arrive," he threw over his shoulder to no droid in particular. "Signal the other ships to enter from hyperspace from the north, south, and east. We will aim our fire for the west. That is where the government officials dwells."

"Roger, roger."

Returning to higher level of the bridge, Grievous sat himself comfortably on his seat to watch his tactic unfold. His heart began to drum with anticipation, the only time he ever felt truly himself. In the toils of warfare, and the destruction it brought in its wake, it was where Grievous natural born instincts stimulated in a frenzy and craving for more.

"General?"

Grievous followed the small voice to the location of his servant, Ahsoka. She looked up towards him like an animal begging to its master.

"In you're position, such a reference is highly unacceptable," Grievous chided, humorously tsking Ahsoka while waving a finger. The child grimaced, but made no attempt to correct her mistake. Grievous scowled and had a mind to properly discipline her. But Ahsoka started at him with a question that really got him.

"Did. . . um. . . did Dooku mention anything about my master?"

He sent her a death glare that could scare any feeble life-form who dared cross him. "We had a deal about that, little one."

"I know-I know." The child spoke softer to better ease her caretakers temper. "I just. . . want to know that he is okay."

Grievous scoffed at the foolish compassion this child carried. "That should be the least of you're worries." Grievous could easily see how much this person meant to this girl. The way she regarded him with utmost affection, it sickened him. And by how far this child was willing to sacrifice just to keep her companion safe implicated more. "You're pathetic. What exactly is this scum to you, any how?"

The Togruta bit her lower lip, signs of disgrace and guilt flooded over the child's expression. Including shame.

"This 'master' of yours is that special to you, isn't he?"

Again, no reply. Except for a small notion of betraying remorse. Grievous snickered, enjoying this small show.

"This is why emotions are not needed for the embodiment of a person. It is nothing more than a distraction, and should be channeled out to make room for precise focus," lectured the general, to which the child did not take to heart. She knew he was right about one thing, was that emotions can blind a person from what is necessary. But that did not mean one should be hollow like a heartless droid, like the general, had Ahsoka said that out loud, the cyborg would not have been so pleased with that.

Ahsoka glued her eyes to the window, wrapping her arms around her legs as she began to challenge her cyborg caretaker once more. "He is the man who gave me a home when no one else offered. He showed me there were other people who were different like me, and who would accept me for what I am," she said, prideful as she described the chivalry of her cherished friend. "I will do whatever it takes to keep him safe." She raised her head to him with burning defiance, her eyes glinting wild and lively.

"Such a noble proclamation," Grievous mused," I ask you. During you're reunion, will he not turn you away for you're attachment despite you're selfless efforts in rescuing him. That instead of giving the Separatists all the secrets that you possess, you should have ran, or perhaps taken your own life."

Ahsoka face twisted in disgust. But she didn't flee from their small debate. "Suicide is not the Jedi way. My master taught me many things, including to do _whatever_ you can to save lives—to do what is right."

"But never did he encourage attachments of any forms, did he not," Grievous cut in. The general knew little of the Jedi's religion, but enough to understand that the farthest a Jedi can go is to be compassionate at a safe degree. And here this child, who was in obvious fear of the Dark Sides influence, harbors traits that were highly discouraged.

On his planet, Kalee, life was harsh and traumatic for the weak, so of course similar affections the Togruta displayed was rare with his people. Death constantly on the prowl, one would swiftly be turned to savagery and eternal heartache. Dominance, prowess, and aggression were the only key traits that drove a Kaleesh to survival, survival of the fittest one would say, and so it was. But that was in the past. Now, with the support of the Banking Clan to fund their trade's and cancel war reparations, his people will never again have to forgo the dark times of famine Grievous was forced into. The Huks, the betrayal of the Republic, and the death of something that tore the cyborg general to a state of depression. But his mind refused to implore the leading cause, and he would later forget his attempt of recollection to the attention of his new charge.

"You're master obviously failed in properly training you. You failed to be his student, but do not fear, my masters will train you to become less hindering in due time."

Through speaking to the likes of scum, Grievous turned away from the conversation to watch out the window as they at last exited hyperspace. There to greet the cyborg and his fleet was a large blockage of Republic warships, angled in steady positions of defensive operations, not offensive. They weren't expecting a separatists attack to come. Grievous will use that as to his advantage, and any advantage would be considered deadly to any poor fool who made himself to be the general's enemy.

"General, all fleets have entered from hyperspace in the positions you've requested earlier, and we've cut off all communications, including via Nava-computer."

Standing from his chair, Grievous turned one last time to the child before sending his wrath upon the galaxy.

"I shall demonstrate to you what you're master—and you're feeble Republic—fail in power. Watch as I destroy every last one of them. "

"The Republic will not lose," Ahsoka defied. "Not the likes of you."

"We shall see." Grievous whipped his head to face the planet and barked, "Begin attack! Maximum fire power."

On command, squads of vulture droids pressed the attack on the western central ship. The Republic had little time of their own to send out their squadrons of petty clones. Grievous made sure that they were completely incapacitated by cutting all communications until they were nothing but sitting ducks. The droids began to volley vicious attacks at the center ships, until at last they broke through the block and changed course to nearby warships that made the mistake of trying to help their fallen comrades.

Another wave of vulture droids, but this time the Republics won over the fray through creativity to which droids were inefficient to.

Grievous made a mental note to have the Geonosian engineers amplify the droids for better efficiency.

Making up for the small loss, two rows of vulture droids came at the squadron with their fire power, one taking the squad head on, then surprising their prey with the second wave firing from behind out of nowhere. They were dealt with ease, and remained the only squad able to make it that far to the general's flagship.

A muffled cry came from Grievous' back. Ignorant at first, before turning in annoyance for the constant interruption, Grievous witnessed his slave withering on the floor in a fetal position, marveling the sight before him.

_Do you see, child? Do you see the power I am capable of unleashing. This is why you do not cross me._

The way the Togruta shriveled at every fire and flinched with each fallen clone-fighter, Grievous could tell that she was not fully exposed to the battlefield. She had yet to fully taste the excitement of warfare, and experience the exhilarating throbs of adrenaline after a vicious victory. In his experience, the destruction that followed war was what thrilled the general into frenzy. He liked it, not just because his mortal life was nothing but warfare, but because he was good at it and enjoyed it.

Grievous motioned toward the child darkly.

"You are inexperienced, aren't you? Pup," Grievous determined. Ahsoka did not disagree, instead nodded in another shameful response. Her fear weakened her with each crash and kill. And her moans of distress alerted him that her senses were the leading cause of her anxiety.

"I can feel it," she gasped, holding herself together helplessly. "Their pain." Ahsoka began to thrash at the collar and grabbed at her head. "Stop it! Stop it now!" Grievous wasn't sure if she was talking to him directly anymore or to some other familiar.

"I have orders that must be fulfilled," Grievous informed, whether she heard or not. "This planet must be punished."

Alerted of the south and northern blocks demise, Grievous ceased fire and requested the progress for his small negotiation.

"Have we any success for surrender?" To the side, he could feel the pleading eyes of his servant.

"The planet ignored our transmission and refused for surrender, sir."

"Very well," Grievous regarded, "Press secondary firepower on the planetary surface now starting with the populace capital. This whole ordeal is becoming amusing to me," Grievous cackled benevolently.

"Roger, roger."

In areas where there were blotches of grey mixed with green, came under fire as the droid vessels bid to their heartless general's whim. The republic blockade, already tending to the safety of themselves, were in scrambling with chaotic confusion, intent on saving the civilians while at the same time looking out for themselves. But it was too late. By the time, if any time given, they decided which point of action they deemed to thrust into, were decimated like the rest and scrapped, their deaths in vain.

Ahsoka whined like an injured animal when the attacks pressed further to the location of the populace. She didn't know how much more she could take. Her mind began to draw out question in frantic terror. Where was the republic? Haven't they called for reinforcements yet? Don't they have enough artily to protect themselves? And where are the Jedi? She remembered how each planet protected by the Republic were assigned with a certain amount of Jedi, as requested from the elderly chancellor Ahsoka knew little of. And yet she saw no sight of Jedi-fighters, but she could sense them through the disparity in the force and the catastrophic occurring right now. They were there, but there was no indication of chivalries or command. This information caused disturbance to the back of the child's mind, along with so much more. Swarming memories of her first experience in the battle caught Ahsoka off-guard. She remembered the loss of good men, and the fight between her and her master before her ship was decimated and she was brought into this sad fate.

The last clone-fighter from his squadron was showered by a rain of plasma before exploding. The clone's screams echoed through the force, echoed through Ahsoka's mind. Choking in a sob, Ahsoka slowly got up from the floor and walked up behind the general. Weakly raising her hand, Ahsoka tugged at the general's cape, too afraid to physically touch his arm.

"Can I leave, please?" Ahsoka pleaded, taking in deep breaths while trying to keep her balance as her vision blurred and stung her eyes. Becoming vague on her surroundings, Ahsoka wasn't sure if the monster even heard her, before she decided to remove herself with or without his approval.

"I'm going to leave."

Something firm grabbed her arm before she could leave. Looking at the problem, she saw a white claw having taking purchase of her right arm and pull her back to where she first started. Ahsoka, with what energy she tried to find in herself, looked up to realize a pair of yellow orbs piercing into her like a lightsaber.

"Stay where you are."

Ahsoka weakly clawed at the general's hold. From a different perspective, it must have made her more pathetic than what her state of mind realized. "No, please . . . my mind can't take much more—"

"You _will_ do as I say. This show shall provide you some insight on the battlefield," was the final words that frightened Ahsoka from leaving. A warning spark struck up her brain, and Ahsoka nodded in submission. Helpless, Ahsoka watched the area where all of Grievous' army attacked, while at the same time, hearing the cries of civilians crying out in pain, mothers and children screaming through the streets.

"Do you see those evacuation transports? The ones leaving the planets orbit?"

Ahsoka, vague but still mildly focused, nodded after spotting the large group of vessels.

"I-I-I see." Yes, she could see, and sense. Most of the passengers aboard were women and children. The men were just barely starting to evacuate themselves.

"Remember them well." Ahsoka was confused from the motive of his sentence until he heard him order, "All cannons fire at those evacuation transports," and screamed for the poor souls before watching one by one fall.

Turning, the remaining starships were vanishing through hyperspace, leaving what was left of the planet to fend for themselves.

"Cowards. Retreating and not even accepting a noble death."

"They'll be back!" Ahsoka breathed through chokes. "I know the Republic won't give up so easily."

"And yet my droids have yet to inform me the arrival of reinforcements entering hyperspace nearby," the general informed her. "Are you sure you are vouching for the right military?"

"Don't poke fun at me."

"I'm merely enlightening you on the current situation. Now watch."

It was a disgusting rush that sent horrible chills up the Togruta's spine over and over again as she witnessed death multiple times. Ahsoka had to bite back her sobbing, drawing blood. Her legs weakened and buckled to the floor once more as a city collapsed and crashed in Main Square where the civilians were. Another wave of deaths flooded the force; Ahsoka scrunched her eyes as it rasped her nerves. she was too disoriented to figure out the duration the invasion lasted, but when it finally ceased, she was left in a state of nausea.

"Sir, we have a boarding party waiting for you in the Main Hanger."

"Good. Land around the city to cut off escape, and wipe out any survivors," Ahsoka caught the cyborg rasp. She felt a pull on her arm, and obediently followed wherever the twisted monster was taking her. "You will be joining me, there is still more to show you. More for you to experience."

Ahsoka didn't dare defy him. His claw had a strong grip around her arm. And she had no intentions of losing it, she needed her arm.

"If you look away, I will punish you."

Ahsoka fearfully bid to his whim, afraid of what he would do to her if she did not obey. He already proved to her he will kill civilians without remorse, what would make her any less special—other than her roots.

Against her inclination, they arrived to the Hanger bay faster than she expected. There, an army of droids were waiting for the general's appearance. Grievous stalked to the center of the unit, looking over with those malevolent yellow eyes he carried, before accepting the arrangements, Ahsoka didn't. There were large tanks, droids with blasters, and even larger droids. Ahsoka didn't need experience to know what kind of slaughter this will progress into. Again, she bit into her sore lip, fighting to keep from crying in front of the monster that kept her in line. She felt the ship depart from space, and enter the smoked atmosphere of the now crumbling metropolis. When they landed, immediately the droids marched outside in perfect rows. Grievous pushed Ahsoka after them, his grip still strong.

The first thing that struck Ahsoka's senses was burnt plasma. It was still daylight, almost close to noon, and the only thing that ruined such a beautiful morning was the invasion of the Separatists.

With a forceful yank on her arm—close to dislocation—Grievous forced Ahsoka into a large area where, before she had the chance to block it out in time, she watched droids starting to pile dead bodies in a careless fashion. One after another, Ahsoka witnessed each civilian be thrown into piles of bloody carcasses where flies were beginning to nest into. Ahsoka's stomach lurched into a painful recession of which she was in need to release, curling to the floor with her headtails dangling off her head, Ahsoka proceeded to vomit on the crumbling floor. The general was pleased with the child's reaction to the outcome; he was giving her the attention the count seemed to think encouraged negative behaviors. But this was negative, this was progressive to the state of mind, the child just needed to get used to it.

"Come. I have more for you to familiarize with." he made sure to tone his voice to make it clear that his order was absolute. The child was aware enough to listen to him, weakly gaiting after him as the two ventured further into the main square of the city. Ahsoka flooded with despair as she could not see or sense anymore republic reinforcements come to the cities aid. She wondered, if there were any left, where the survivors were hiding.

There was food all over the floor when they past the markets, animals scurrying about in fright after sensing the general's presence, and everywhere Ahsoka would divert to, bodies laid about, both women, children, and men alike with the foul stench that followed. Ahsoka crinkled her nose.

Refusing to watch anymore, Ahsoka ran in front of the general. Only did she challenge him did Ahsoka recall his towering form, she never felt so small and insignificant before. But she shrugged the idea and hissed to his face with utmost animosity. "This is all you're fault. These people lived in peace before you're stupid droids ruined it all for them!"

Grievous leered at her viciously, provoked by her sudden outburst as an offensive gesture. "They chose to join the Republic. They brought this upon themselves."

"Only because they wanted protection."

"From a weak government who throws lies and false declarations for the greater good of the galaxy," Grievous threw back. "Had they joined the Separatists, then perhaps their lives would have gone by under more pleasant circumstances."

"_Perhaps_?" Ahsoka emphasized, her face twisting in abhorrence.

"Yes, _perhaps_!"

What threw Ahsoka into more repugnance was that the general was unfazed by the massacre. It angered Ahsoka, whereas she should ignore such a strong emotion and look towards common sense—but there existed no such tranquil state when in the company of a butcher who evidently enjoys slaughter.

Passing down stairs leading to the very center of the city, Ahsoka saw from afar a large group of civilian lined in rows, each with their own droid chaperone to keep them in line and wait for their superior for his appearance. Grievous stalked towards a droid leading it's counterparts.

"Is this all that's left?"

"Yes, general."

"Take the girl and have her sit over there."

"Roger, roger."

Pulled aside from the group, Ahsoka sat at a good distance from the end of the line, but close enough to view the fearful citizen's scared expressions and dirtied tattered clothing. The children huddled close to the mothers and widows who wept and feared for the worst as the droids organized them in perfect lines to be presented to their master. Her master. Ahsoka touched her collar, despising her inability to do anything about it, her power nullified at the hands of the twisted monstrosity who did this to the people of this planet.

The Republic could do nothing to stop this, instead they allow such a creation to roam free and commit savage slaughter such as the sight Ahsoka saw before her.

The civilians witnessed in horrific surprise a towering droid with a mind of it's own, an independent quality that separated it from the rest, it's arching posture and madden eyes depicted to a predatorily animal when really it was the galaxy's worst nightmare. After sensing their fear, the general frightened them all the more as he gave them his utmost attention, his words deciding their fate.

"Citizens of this planet," Grievous regarded them venomously, "you must know by now that you were better off as another body for my droids to trash in the piles you see before. But fear not, I shall grant you all a merciful end you're precious friends and families apparently did not receive."

A civilian, the only one the cyborg saw with an unbroken will, a mannerism he had rarely seen after decimating a homeland, broke away from the droid that was too incompetent to keep him in line. The young man, with auburn hair, and defiant eyes that reminded him so much of himself when he was a lad of young age, defying the Huk and Jedi alike for what they did to him and allowed on his home planet, limped at a fair distance from the cyborg killer—which was closer than any other sap had ever ventured close enough. The general sympathized with the survivor and gave him his attention, erecting his posture in an intimidating hovering manner only something of his kind could ever hope to achieve.

"You monster! The republic will put a stop to you if it's the last thing they do."

"You dare defy me even at impossible odds, quite the noble gesture."

"I'm not afraid, especially not to scum."

Hearing that, the general stalked near the human who dared not move else he wanted his throat torn there and now. "You wish to die sooner, boy?" casually suggested the general, eyes glinting like a predator whence it caught sight of it's prey. "I will be more than happy to grant you that wish."

"I wish for you and you're droids to leave this planet or suffer the wrath of the Republic."

Their wrath. The Republic had nothing on the general, nothing to beat him at, not this time that is. His durasteel chest rumbled as he brought a digit pointed at his chest. For the human, he saw the said creature's eyes glow into hardened madness.

"Humorous you're threats are to me. But you see I am clearly far too powerful for the likes of the Republic, nor the Jedi." Igniting his lightsaber at the bridge of the human's brow, the general erected his claw in readiness to take the life of his defiant hostage. "Is that all you have to say?"

"No."

"Speak then, for I am humble enough to allow a dying man's last words be heard before he is sent to the heavens above."

The human cracked a twisted smile, another sign of defiance that has not been broken.

"Then I shall tell you what I have to say."

"So be it."

Drawing in a breath after a moment's pause, the only sound that was audible other than the humming of the cyborgs blade and the far off whimper of his Togruta servant, the human spoke at last.

"A _droid_ like you, will never bring the Republic to its knee's. The Separatist's will lose.—"

Tossed out of sight, the general made swift work of dispatching the man of his head at the end of his proclamation, at the same time, cutting the survivors last shred of hope of Republic arrival.

"Anymore outburst I need to know of?" None answered, except for the cooked sizzling of smoke emitting from the neck of the now headless corpse. "That's what I thought." Now it was the child's turn to gain the attention of the cyborg general, shivering and shaken stiff after watching the murder of a defenseless man. Ahsoka felt the vibrations of crumbling earth the cyborgs talons made as the monster came closer. "Come here, little one." She bid, afraid that she will not see the next day like the man before her.

She answered with a weakly "yes?" and followed the general back to where he was moments before. Curious, Ahsoka peaked her head up to see what the cyborg was planning, but with his mask covering his face, it proved difficult to determine. So lightly, under a small degree to ease the collar's security, very lightly, Ahsoka tried to feel for his thoughts, anything to give her insight on what he was planning. If he was force-sensitive—thanks the stars he's not—then he would have felt her clumsy and untrained prodding. But after figuring out what was to proceed after, Ahsoka gasped in horror.

"Begin executions by rows, make sure none are alive."

"Roger, roger."

Ahsoka snapped her eyes shut, unable to bring herself to watch anymore, before a slight tug to her headtail alarmed her. The general arched his head next to hers, eerily close to the point she could feel the texture of his mask brush behind her headtail. She cringed when he gripped her shoulders and moved her closer to the row of hostages who were moved forward with blasters pointed at the back of their heads.

"Look at them, child, look at them for it will be the last time anyone will see life breath through them ever again."

Ahsoka watched them while they refused to look at her or the general except drop their heads to the floor in dread. Ahsoka wanted to help, her instincts begging her to do so, but fear blinded her actions and focused her mind on obeying the general's whim.

The first row was pushed forward on their knees. Their cries for mercy were unheard by the general and his droids, who readied their blaster waiting to fire.

"Fire."

The first row fell to the floor and a heap of blood and gore. Ahsoka screamed, feeling their deaths coarse through, vomiting and whimpering as the blood spilled close to her. Instantly she scurried nearer to the cyborg that kept her in place, he didn't seem to pay her any mind even when she got on his large talons to keep her feet dry from blood.

Ahsoka clenched her fists and tugged on the general, at last finding her voice and started begging for the cyborg to stop this and let them go. She was ignored. Another wave of blaster fires. Ahsoka shivered and whimpered to herself as a pool of blood was starting with each execution.

When the last row was just the women and the children, Ahsoka ran away before the general could catch her, before she could see them pass on as well. She ran down the streets, past lifeless people, crumbling buildings, and fallen parks, she dared not turn back for fear of a monster hot on her trail. She didn't know how long she was running as her legs burned with unrest, until she gave out and fell over to the ground where she laid there limb like any other dead body. It came to realization that her chest was heaving her to hyperventilate, until she caught short and heard a noise that caught her attention.

A baby's wail.

Ahsoka walked towards the sounds in a slow fashion, trotting down steep streets broken and contorted with the sidewalk, cutting herself from broken shards and objects, and occasionally tripping most ungracefully on the rubble concrete, until at last she made to a house. The wailing grew louder and louder when Ahsoka invited herself in, till at last she found a human baby nestled in covers beneath a table, its parents nowhere to be found. Taking the babe into her arms, she rocked it with tear-filled eyes

Because of war, and monsters that create it, this innocent child will suffer for things that it did not commit. Right there, Ahsoka felt her heart lurch and rip in agony as she settled the baby in her safe embrace.

The sounds of metallic footing against rubble and debris neared Ahsoka from behind, but she didn't turn, fearing for the baby after hiding it under her tunic. Ahsoka practically curled into a ball, feeling ten battledroids surround her.

The baby, silent as its whimpers were covered by the fabric of her grey tunic, nuzzled closer to Ahsoka's chest.

It didn't take long for her owner to follow after, sensing his presence without even having to use her Togruta echolocation.

Slowly, Ahsoka turned her head and saw Grievous hover over her like a crazed animal. His hunched posture and baring claws made Ahsoka feel weak.

"Always the disobedient, aren't you?"

Ahsoka was going to say something until the baby whimpers rose to sobbings. Ahsoka curled again desperately.

"What was that!" he roared.

"Nothing!" she cried, rocking back in forth trying to ease the smothered babe at her nape.

Torn from her barrier, Ahsoka was exposed of her deception and pulled aside so that the general may observe the reason for her disobedience. There it was, upon the dirtied floor where it squirmed and wailed as the merciless killer of its parents watched carefully, until briskly turning and beckoning for Ahsoka and her two guards to follow. Another gesture and the babe was taken away, never seen again.

From that moment on, the reality of which Ahsoka thought to be fair and devoted to chivalry no longer bore. It was there she realized that there were many problems the Republic could not stop, nor the Jedi.

Summoned before the general, Ahsoka was again pitted against something that was clearly far more superior than she. Words of their previous conversation played through her memories like a sheer cut through the very strands that kept her soul in place.

_During you're reunion, will he not turn you away for you're attachment despite you're selfless efforts in rescuing him._

The words weighed Ahsoka down as did the Force. She feared that, perhaps, the general could be right.

"W-what will you do?"

"Punish you of course."

"I care not for me, but for the infant," said Ahsoka, mustering up her bravery as best as she could. "What will you do to the baby?"

"You should know well enough," the beast neared. "Would you like to see for yourself?"

"Don't do it," she begged. "I'll take care of it. You won't even notice its there—"

"I will!" said Grievous. "As for you, you should not even worry over such a small thing—especially one that is not even related to you're species."

"I _worry_ because I am a—"

"Don't say it! Don't you dare say it! You are a slave for crying out loud."

Ahsoka bit her lower lip, shrinking as his voice grew. Grievous turned his back on her, but he wasn't finished with their conversation.

"Unlike you masters from the Jedi Temple, I will not hesitate to expose you to the realities of the galaxy. You've seen for yourself what the order—and the filthy Republic—ignore while they carry about with their own affairs. Slavery, and petty worlds that prove themselves to be no longer useful to their patronages, all shunned by the Republics self-pride and greed you fail to see."

Ahsoka didn't say anything except hear the general's words. The general turned to her now, with the same malevolent stare she's been given ever since her stay with him.

"Take what I've just taught you to heart, otherwise you're mentality will not last for long. You must become stronger than what you are in order to survive with the likes of our masters," he said at last. "I do not accept weakness."

Biting back the tears, and accepting what she considered to be her new life, Ahsoka nodded.

"Good," she heard that monstrous voice accept cruelly. "You have finally accepted what you are, and now I see it necessary to leave you to the care of you're true master, Lord Dooku."

That name brought a pit of consternation to Ahsoka as she followed him through cities destruction once more and departed on the transport.

* * *

Here you go. Ahsoka has finally stopped resisting her future with the good general and Dooku. Or will she continue her defiance? And shed some light in the general's black-and-white view on the galaxy. Keep reading and you might find out.

Please R&R (Review)

Or else. (It's the only way I know I still have readers out there)


	10. Chapter 10

Resilience

Ahsoka counted paces as she stumbled through the carnage and rubble left after the destruction she had just witnessed this morning. The planet's sun orbiting over it's now orange sky made the evening's clear. It's evening's glow loomed and covered the destroyed city into an ironic scenery. There was no wind. There was no sound at all. Except for the marching droids scouting the perimeter—and the general barking his commands at his armies.

Fear washed over Ahsoka, realizing in agony how familiar this scenery was to her.

The evening sky. The destroyed city that resembled Coruscant almost too perfectly. It was like the galaxy was trying to give Ahsoka its visual insight the Force rarely did. And she wished she didn't notice it. Everything. Down to the same dead atmosphere she felt when she left with Master Plo Koon from Coruscant. What became of these people was a high possible outcome for the people of Coruscant. Destroyed and butchered by the likes of a cruel monster who took pleasure in carnage and warfare. And there was nothing Ahsoka could do. _Not that she could before_. But if what Grievous said was true—and that the Republic was truly weak—then no one is safe. Not from the Separatists.

And not from _him_.

Ahsoka sent a small nasty look in the general's direction—who was speaking with a droid, conducting in conversation too far for Ahsoka's ears to hear. When he was finished, the general made a turn toward Ahsoka. She had enough time to recollect her stare before the general caught sight of it. Thankfully he didn't, yet he still stared after. It was one of those times where their eyes would lock and became difficult to avoid. And as always Ahsoka was left with a cutting sensation right through her chest and down her heart whence the general tore away for a moment before beckoning for Ahsoka to come to his side. Hesitant at first, Ahsoka bid with an abrupt step then settling right behind his back.

"Have you heard word of Dooku's arrival?"

The name jolted Ahsoka's senses. She perked up.

"Yes, sir. He is waiting for your arrival from the Flagship, and he demands that you bring the Togruta female on your return."

"Very well. Report back to Lord Dooku that I will return now."

"Roger, roger."

Turning, Grievous started in the direction most likely where the vessel that will take him to the ship awaited. Ahsoka followed after him with somewhat ease. Despite being spatially aware of her surroundings, there was the rubble and crumbling sidewalks to consider. Ahsoka had to make a hesitant step over a particular part of the pavement in order to keep up on the cyborg's trail. Surprisingly, the general didn't seem to be having the same kind of difficulty as she was.

The vessel was not that hard to miss it was practically the only piece of machinery—aside from the droids—that wasn't demolished to the grounds. Untouched from the calamities that have plagued the city, the ship stood there unscathed from its short voyage with its engines still running in the neimoidian co-pilot waiting from inside.

Ahsoka felt a wave of sudden relief overcome her after the idea of escaping this forsaken city crossed her mind.

Grievous stalked inside quickly, ignoring the quivering neimoidian attempting to greet him, and sat himself comfortably across from the other guest seats. His encumbrance took a seat parallel to him, curled and eyes occupied to the floor. Though the child's behavior has shown an improvement since their departure from the Hutt Palace, the competence this child possesses lacked the comprehension of solid obedience of higher class.

But that part shall be left to his Master's care.

When at last the ship returned to the Flagship floating over the Southern Hemisphere of the planet, Grievous was up and out in a heartbeat. It only dawned on him as he was exiting into the Main Hanger of his Flagship did he recall the existence of his slave. But tiny footsteps coming up after him from a distance assured him she was keeping up. Good. The general was in no mood of having to go back, to do so was such a hassle and a waste of precious time.

From the droids attending the Main Hanger—and the several Neimoidians scattering themselves like moths—stood a perfectly postured Sith Lord waiting patiently at the center. Grievous got to the Sith before he could make a complete turn. Grievous bowed graciously to his master.

"My Lord."

"General," Dooku regarded, "Congratulations on conquering yet another necessary planet to our cause."

Grievous bowed lower in gratitude for his master's praise. And then he turned to Ahsoka, who had managed to keep herself quiet for the remainder of the trip back.

"My Lord, I have brought you the child as you requested."

"Ah, very good. Ahsoka, come along here." Dooku outstretched an open arm, and held the Togruta child in a protective shoulder. "General, continue to the bridge. I will meet you there shortly after."

"Yes, my Lord."

The general was quick to leave. Alone in the Main Hanger, with nothing but the occasional chatter of a few droids, Ahsoka greeted Count Dooku with a hopeful smile.

"Lord Count Dooku—m-my master. . . Master Plo Koon. Is he—"

"Yes, my dear. He is in good care." The Count's beard smiled lightly. His unreadable eyes watching her closely. "But first, I have come for an important issue of dire importance. It appears you must have your records checked."

Ahsoka's montrals twitched. "My records?"

"Yes. You see in order for us to safely commit research, we need to know if there are any . . . _dilemmas _that may prove lethal."

"O-okay, I guess," said Ahsoka, unable to hide the shaky tone behind her voice. It wasn't that she was afraid. More wary than that. But she kept it up and stuck to the decision of listening. "So what do I have to do?"

"Nothing you would consider frightening. A blood sample is needed. And we must know if you are repellent to certain chemicals—including allergic."

"Ah, well I have no objections," Ahsoka proclaimed. "But, I was wondering—well. . . if I can ask you a question?"

"You may."

"The general," Ahsoka mouthed the word in contempt. "I won't be staying with him any longer, will I?"

"That still depends. Judging by that," he batted his eyes at her neck. The collar glimmered from the lighting provided by the hallway the two were now strolling through. "I'm not sure if now is the proper time. Especially after what I've been told by my general."

Ahsoka halted. Staring wide-eyed. "I—I—I—he—"

"A time ago, we spoke of whence you attempted to escape the general's care after my departure," the human that projected eloquence without difficulty spoke in calm. "Is this true?" he asked, face forward and pace unchanged.

Thinking over her options before choosing the necessary vocabulary to make her mind, Ahsoka felt a nagging thought of not misleading the senior Sith.

"Yes, sir. That is correct," spoke the now forlorn Togruta.

"I see. And the time when you attempted to make yet another escape on the third moon of Vassek. Is this also true?"

"Yes, sir."

"I understand it is nerving to have to give your allegiances to such a. . . being, but I assure you. So long as you comply to these condition, your reward in this effort will not be held in light."

The reassuring tone that reached Ahsoka's ears made her headtails shiver and stripes darken in hue. The thought of being rewarded wasn't exactly the sort of word Ahsoka would use in this kind of situation. The word made all her efforts out to be servitude of a mutt to its master in hopes of getting a biscuit for its troubles. And Ahsoka was no mutt. Sure, she did share an ancestry to a predator species long ago. But her species were more independent including civil than a mangy mutt. And as for the master. Ahsoka had no intentions in sharing her _true allegiances_ to this cause. Her loyalty are with—and always will be—with the Republic.

Passing through a pair of sliding circular-shaped doors, Ahsoka and the Sith Lord that led her entered themselves into a Medical room. There, a medical droid stood erect and fastening itself with the necessary appendages for the recording. Ahsoka gulped after catching eye of the needles strapped to the left appendage.

And when she looked to the gurney that was neatly made for her, she gulped again.

This was too familiar.

Without a fuss, or even a sigh, Ahsoka propped herself on top of the gurney. The Count was pleased with that much. He switched to the droid with the same omniscient behavior that leveled him above any other being.

"Begin the procedure."

"Yes, my lord."

As the droid prepared, the Sith returned to Ahsoka.

"Before I depart to my affairs, how far are you in training?"

"I got the basics down. I think," Ahsoka said truthfully. "However, I'm not particular on any sort of lightsaber form nor technique."

Count Dooku sighed, for the first time Ahsoka saw a shred of emotion come across the man's face. Irritation. "This is problematic. However, this can be overcome once I have the time to fully teach you in the arts of—"

"The Dark Side," Ahsoka cut in aggressively. "B-but you said just testing will be done to me. You spoke nothing of _teaching _me the ways of the dark side."Ahsoka would say more but a ripple from the Sith's direction enlightened her of an irritation emotion from behind that face. Catching herself, Ahsoka apologized slowly. "I'm sorry. But I don't plan on giving myself up to you further than what I have already convinced myself to."

"Loyal, I can see that." The man assessed. It didn't sound like a compliment at all. "But foolish you are if you think I will allow such talent to be wasted with the likes of the Jedi."

"I'm sorry, sir. But I am not foolish. I'm only sticking to my belief."

"And it is the Jedi who have planted those false beliefs into your mind. But talents you have yet to establish into your own will only disappear and become extinct if you plan on continuing you training with Jedi." He spoke with such displeasure for the Order that it really wasn't that hard to miss. "Under my care, I will see to it that such a child of promise will blossom into the galaxy. And remember Ahsoka, there is still Master Plo Koon to consider."

It literally felt like the air was caught in Ahsoka's throat. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. Everything had stopped in her delirium from recalling. All except for her heart which was pounding through her ribcage in an aching rhythm.

"Once you are properly prepared, I will train you as my own. And I strongly hope we won't be having any more of these outburst remarks in my company." Turning in one swift graceful movement, the count reached toward the exit until stopping midway to slight turn his eyes back to Ahsoka. "I will return after you are done. Be a good girl, now." Then he left.

From a safe distance, Ahsoka sighed deeply after feeling the man begin to fade from Force and somewhere else where she didn't have to sense him any longer.

The droid began to advance on Ahsoka rather impatiently, as if it had other matters to attend to. Sort of like the caretaker droid back on the general's castle. She didn't make a fuss. And waited quietly for it to be over and done with. Along with the rest of her life.

Meanwhile, the general was still aboard the bridge waiting for further instructions from his master. As soon as he entered the bridge, Grievous then after took it upon himself to oversee the progress of his crew. Apparently there had not been Republic forces chatter prior to their invasion. As good as it may sound, surprises always tend to pop up here and there. Grievous took no chances. He prompted for double security. Following that, he demanded for additional troops.

And then Dooku came. His eyes looked down on him in disapproval as he stood to a halt at the center of the upper level of the bridge.

"Explain yourself this instant!" the Sith demanded sharply. Unpleased and clearly angry.

But Grievous threw him a convincing confused look. "Forgive my rudeness, my lord. But you are going to have to be more specific."

"Do not play with me, general. What you've done was completely uncalled for."

"From my memory bank, I recall_: Congratulations in acquiring yet another necessary planet to our cause_."

"If I may ask, what brought your mind to annihilate these people?"

The general removed himself from the Count's piercing gaze to face the screen producing a vivid picture of the planet that he had just invaded. "I acted in accordance of my mandate," spoke the calm general, making sure the careless edge was audible. "I offered the people a chance to surrender and they refused. So I removed them," Grievous stated.

"Without people, this planet would have fewer voices in the political arena," lectured Dooku. "Oh—but of course in your field such political values wouldn't be as_ interesting_ as mutilating a dead body. Would it?"

Grievous rolled his head to the direction of his master in disbelief. Neither spoke for that moment before Dooku saw that his general retreated back to the screen in urgency.

"You did—miraculously—bring the planet's leader to urge for vote to divorcing their ties from the Republic and merging with the Separatists."

This time Grievous rose a brow. "I'm gracious to know that you don't find _all_ my efforts in vain," the general flatly voiced.

"I never said I did," Dooku countered as he moved in the area that placed him right of the cyborg general. He monitored the screen. "I only wish you would add more subtlety, but perhaps there is hope for you. "Dooku inched his head so that the general could see his master's attention alter from the screen—to him. "It has become apparent I am free from my political duties—three hours standard at best. During this time, perhaps we can better assess your proficiency."

It took no less than a second for the general to reply to his master's invitation to spar training. At last Grievous had a chance to show Count Dooku the prowess and grace he honed into the very metal body that housed him. At last he could prove to the Sith just how worthy he was to him. Did he have any reason to worry? No, such a distracting emotion would render him useless. There was no need to worry, for it was deemed weakness. To be unfaithful to one's own proficiency would to find one self lacking. And Grievous did not lack. And so long as he didn't fail, Grievous would truly live up to his true purpose: invincible.

Soon after the agreement, Count Dooku made the arrangements for their spar to take place in the Main Hanger in isolation so as to reduce distractions and would-be disruptions. Grievous took to the settings in gratified approval.

"I must prepare. I will be there shortly," was what the dark lord said as he exited the bridge.

Grievous took no time in making last minute arrangements for the B1 battledroids to tend to—adding ferocity to his voice to discourage failure—before departing to the bridge. He spoke to no one as he stalked straight to the Hanger Bay, mind set on being there as soon as possible, ignoring all who attempted to converse, not that that was something to worry over. Unless business was involved, any crew member would be too fearfully intimidated by the general's menacing appearance to attempt to socialize with, droids alike.

Not a single battle droid, maintenance droid, or neimoidian was about in the Main Hanger whence Grievous' arrival. Aside from the transport vessels and recharging droid starfighters dangling from the ceiling in recharge, Grievous was the only patron accommodating the Main Hanger's soundless transparisteel floors. But this was taken as an opportunity to warm up—which Grievous did rapidly.

Drawing two of four of his most prized trophies, both hissing in the air after activation, Grievous performed a routine of warm-ups to mentally and physically prepare himself. If he was going to go head on with his master, then the mistake of hesitation would prove to be fatal, not to mention, punishable. Grievous started with getting in touch with both Makashi and Juyo, or Vapaad—two of the earliest forms he mastered—by drawing himself into positions both forms demanded, then after, striking at invisible enemies with death-bearing blows. Each slash he would add with a more creative follow, and each follow before finishing with yet another anger-driven finish. Each attack was precise, well-thought out, and correspondent with his body. For if either or were not compatible, then Grievous would have a real problem on his hands once he faced Lord Dooku, or worse—on the battlefield against his enemies. Which is why each finishing attack came with a pause to reassess and correct any mistakes, readjustment, then continue again he got it right.

Despite the obstreperous hisses each slash would sound from the lightsaber, the highly attentive audioreceptors the Commander general possessed heard from the main entrance the sound of parting doors, followed by small but allusive footsteps nearing towards Grievous' direction. However general continued without pause; having grudgingly become accustomed to the way the person moved and spoke, Grievous was well aware of who decided to raid on his solitude.

Batting obsessive bright blue eyes in his direction, and even sneering behind his back when he was not looking, the subordinate Grievous unfortunately grew acquainted with, Asajj Ventress, rested her arms on her hips without bothering to offer a pleasant greeting. Not that it mattered. Grievous didn't either.

When she realized she was not going to get a response from him, the Force-manipulating witch breathed, "General," through gritted pure white teeth.

Grievous responded back with a low, "Ventress," after finishing up. Making a complete turn, he faced his rival. Since their last encounter, the Dark acolyte Dathomirian had not changed since their time apart. Dawned in the very same robes and trappings of Sith—more witch-like—cold blue eyes bearing a stare to match his own, her dual lightsabers clipped at her waist for quick reach in combat. Stepping at fair distance from the assassin, Grievous inspected his lightsaber rather than courteously provide the wench his full attention. "Should I even demand the reason why you are on my ship?"

"_You're_ ship, general?"

"Yes. _My_ ship."

"Quite simple, really. Dooku summoned me." Grievous tried to search for any deception, the smallest hint of lie hidden in her words. But what the witch said was, in fact, true. "Had I been informed of your presence, I would have brought you a souvenir. A mutilated body would suffice, right?"

Grievous glared, but his temper was still in check. "Are you capable of such action? Do not make promises you cannot keep," he taunted, savoring the irritated expression of the Dathomirian. It would have to do seeing how his other responsibility was fortunately unavailable at the time.

Asajj neared on Grievous. He allowed her to, eyeing her every body movement and gestures with caution. When it came to witches, surprises always followed. Unfavorable surprises.

"On the contrary, I only wished to improve what scrap of reputation you have left. After all, it appears the only sort of challenge you can fair against are weak civilian," teased Ventress, "While I have bested Jedi by the numbers."

"What a coincidence, so have I." Grievous waved a trophy her way, his eyes gleaming and taunting. "More so."

Ventress snarled. "Don't get carried away, general! And don't you dare carry the idea Count Dooku would train you personally."

"Obviously. Lord Dooku personally informed me that we would share a lesson—_alone_."

"Your audioreceptors are in need of maintenance—among others—for Count Dooku informed me that we would be sharing a lesson."

"You lie," Grievous rumbled a growl. Until now, it never dawned the general of his master's deception, but after rethinking, the whole _isolated lesson_ proved too good to be true. He should have suspected his master would have wanted to Ventress to take part as well. Betrayed, Grievous' claws clamped into fists, imagining the Dathomirian's neck in his grasp. "You could never hope—or dream—to match my skill. Or think of yourself as Dooku's favorite. Nothing more than a plaything of his whim."

"How dare you!" The witch rasped into her natural witch-like persona. Eyes bright with intense anger, Ventress' fingers twitched eagerly to grasp for her weapons. Grievous likewise. "Are you suggesting my abilities are lacking?"

"You can think what you want. I care not. But in truth I am merely pointing out the flaws in your abilities."

"You blubbering fool!"In five long vicious strides—yes Grievous counted, alerted and aroused for conflict-Asajj Ventress was up against the general face to face. Lips pulled back in a sneer, Asajj didn't try to hold back her hatred for the cyborg. "I am far more superior than you in more ways than one."

"Foolishness." Grievous declined in calm. "You may claim to be who you want to be, but in the end it is I who claims the title as the Supreme Commander of the most powerful droid army the galaxy has ever seen."

The dark witch did not say a word at first; rather, she did something Grievous would never expect the elusive woman to ever accomplish. She turned away. But as Grievous was about to rotate, returning to engaging himself in combat—he could hear the witch mouth, "A title fitting for a droid, no doubt."

Almost instantly Grievous had lashed out for his lightsabers—cutting through the air as if he himself was the lightsaber, until facing Ventress face to face once more with his towering form cast over her. Ventress responded almost as quick as the cyborg Grievous, her lightsaber hilts in her hands, poised gracefully into combat-ready. Thumbs mere inches from pressing the switch that would activate the blade and cut him down in spiteful rage. Both, since upon meeting—and course of events—disliked one another tremendously that it could be considered a passion. But with their orders and superiors to mind, the two were forced to join forces whether they did enjoy each other's company or not.

But if this witch thinks she can get away with this crap then she was sorely mistaken. Grievous had little to no patience for tolerance—especially for this wench.

Closing the gap between their faces by just two inches to provide intimidation to his advantage, Grievous hissed, "Repeat that." Yellow eyes burnt bright, Grievous' eyes grew narrow and feral. His voice a resemblance to that of a Nexu during a hunt in the cool forests. "And you have my word I will make you regret using that disgusting tongue of yours."

Just as Ventress was going to mouth the words that would either save or end her life there and now—the audible sound of lungs clearing could be heard not that far away from the quarrel. The two slowly turned, and saw their Sith master Count Dooku looking after them in deep disapproval.

Grievous was the first to retreat the assassin's personal space. Retracting his lightsabers to his belt, Grievous argued, "Lord Dooku, we—"he eyed for the assassin's reaction"—were preparing for your arrival." The assassin shifted, and nodded. Not bothering to defend his statement.

Poised, unmoving, with his finely-made silken cape pulled to one side in order to reveal his right, the Count simply raised a single brow. "I've sensed enough to process the intentions of you two. So if it is not too much of a request, could you two possible search for some ground rule for I will not tolerate this behavior if it is to continue. "

Grievous inwardly scowled, cursing himself for even thinking about deceiving his Sith master. Having a master aligned to the very fabrications that made the Force graced the general—and any other colleague placing their profession towards the Count's appointment—have come to extreme awareness that any such deception, insignificant or critical, to the Count would result with humiliating expulsion, and an unmerciful punishment.

"My apologies, my lord," Grievous said in quickness. Ventress apologized as well, disrupting her muteness since Darth Tyranus' abrupt appearance. "But if I'm not mistaken, I was sure you meant for the two of us to share a lesson."

"I did. And Ventress."

"Permission to speak, my lord."

"Granted."

"I must decline," Grievous protested.

Grievous angled his mask slightly to see the sith assassin go stiff and stare at him. Count Dooku stared after him as well, eyes flickering with curiosity. "How so, general?"

"I feel more participants would be distracting to the purpose of this sparring lesson."

"Perhaps so," his master confirmed. "But that doesn't mean Ventress would be a distraction. In fact, Ventress—including you—are to spar afterwards for my own analysis. So her contribution is anything but a distraction."

Taking in a resigned stifled sigh, Grievous surrendered to his master's reasons. "As you wish, my lord." As much as he despised Ventress, the thought of her actually contributing anything for the benefit of his master would be a sight he would really like to see.

Dooku stepped to the middle of the arena wordlessly. When he found a suitable area to his liking, Dooku turned silently and beckoned for the general first. "General, step forward," Dooku commanded.

Ready, Grievous went forward, bowed, then settled himself in combat with one fleeting breath. It was all natural to him. Like a prodigy who has mastered the intricacy of a guitarra; Grievous was more adept with warfare and combat as he was with a starfighter.

"Begin."

As if that word was the trigger, Grievous started at the Sith Lord in a heartbeat. He was a flash, his actions precise and his movements just as graceful as the force provided to the Jedi. His first strike was aimed for Dooku's head, which was effortlessly blocked in one parry. The general didn't even see the Sith Lord reach for his lightsaber in spite of the enhanced implants in his eyes. And with his own skill of mastery, Dooku sent a single-handed slash with one step forward, answering the opening the Grievous apparently left. The impact of the human's thrust was too inhuman to outmaneuver, pushing Grievous' entire body backward with his feeting screeching against the floor.

The human paused, then took a step back. He flanked the general in one move.

"Do not allow yourself to be left unguarded. Focus."

Grievous side-stepped in time to face the Count with yet another fierce strike, anger leading it to the very end, striking in vital areas lethal to any normal human—and more than a challenge to inhuman. But with each powerful strike, the Count would easily parry with a twist of a wrist and change in arm coordination, this time not moving a foot. The next move that came to mind was switching lightsabers in a blurr, taking one step back only to answer the Count's ready-stance with an upward diagonal slash. Then after, before Grievous allowed his master to close his eyelids to blink he firmed his footings to approach with yet another attack. Each attack he would face towards his master, unfortunately, was answered swiftly parries and attacks that mangled Grievous' own and send him into a internal fit. Countless times, as he pressed on, Grievous sought restlessly for an opening—a mistake—but none came to. And Grievous was the always the one to feel the brunt of his incapability of overpowering his master.

Once Grievous tried to use the unorthodox where he flipped a yard away just as Dooku went for a sweeping motion that would have decapitated the general from the neck up, landing on one foot at the same time applying his left lightsaber to his free talon swiftly to provide a surprise ambush. The lightsaber came in contact with his master's red blade, with neither weilder allowing the other to overpower. In unison, both opponents fell back from the stailmate. Then they came at each other again—with Grievous the first.

On a second try of a vicious counter attack, just when he was about to intercept the elderly man's second parry, the Count took a step back and gestured to cease. Grievous halted instantly.

"So far you seem to think the best solution in answering a challenge is to _rush_ in blindly rather than assess the opponents weaker points. Remain vigilant more importantly on body movements where it would seem awkward and less aggressive."

The general nodded and pressed again. Continuing his attack, Grievous heeded his master's examination and became more cautious. Still only using two lightsabers, Grievous made an abrupt change and pressed for a sweeping attack requiring him to throw most of his weight into, but not too much to lose footing. Yet with each parry, each low and high strike, the general could not afford himself the victory of even getting the Count to lose his elegant stance—unchanging with each attack he protested, and still very much energy to spare.

Reaching the rounded-edge of the make-shift arena for the two, with Ventress the only worthy audience, the general separated himself from existing distractions and conflicts as to better attune himself more efficiently with his instincts in order to gain any beneficial results. The idea of giving up did not fit into Grievous' vocabulary not because he didn't know how to—but because he simply denied. To surrender now would only bring him shame—and Dooku, whom graciously funded for his general's creation and training. And Grievous was not about to do such a thing.

Between the discernible emotions driving both the general's actions—and the agitation that sent his senses in a flux, the Count had gone and made a very noticeable mistake in his next guard. An opening Grievous did not waste. Willing his powerful magnetized talons to thrust his body at full capacity, Grievous went straight for it after making it seem as if he were attacking from above that would force the Count to raise his red-bladed lightsaber in a high parry stance, and, thus, widening the opening.

In a split second, unfortunately, when Grievous began to think he would surely gain the upper hand, the Dark Lord fell back and lifted a gestured hand to a halt. All the force pushing Grievous' powerful body was too great, and the general made an ungraceful halt that resulted in his talons screeching the metal flooring in high-pitched, but in time to keep from rushing into the Sith.

Lowering his hand, slowly to make the seconds excruciating for the general awaiting his next lecture, Dooku spoke: "You have failed to see what you've done wrong, general. Would you like to explain yourself, or shall I?"

Taken aback, Grievous was unsure of the question. "I'm sorry, but I do not know what I did wrong, my lord."

Adjusting the radius of his antennae audio-receptors out of habit, Grievous caught the faintest sound of a snickering giggle directing from where Ventress stood patiently. When the Count Dooku closed his eyes and shook his head, Grievous sent her an icy glare that made the message clear: _Shut your mouth or I _will_ remove it._

"I sensed your agitation as clear as the Force itself. In that state, you made the mistake of giving in to the temptation of attacking even the most obvious traps I have laid. " Dooku began to circle Grievous like a Frist Shark circling it's meal . "You must never be reckless and agitated, and instead allow composure and certainty to take its place. For if you lack both of those qualities, you will surely fail. Am I understood?"

Grievous bowed his head lowly. "Yes, my lord."

"Exellent. Remove yourself for the time being," Dooku threw over his shoulder as he turned on his heels. "Ventress, come forth."

The snake-hissing voice belonging to the Dark Acolyte responded, "Yes," and moved.

Taking the opportunity, as Grievous was about to discharge his lightsaber he made a circle rotation dangerously close to Ventress that could have disarmed her arm for good. Unprepared, the witch flinched and hissed.

"Oh, my mistake," Grievous apologized unsympathetically. His eyes smiling in dark twisted hate. "Must be defected."

Ventress sent him an icy glare, mumbled something too unintelligible for Grievous to understand, before following after her master in scorn. Grievous chuckled to her back and took space not far from where the next spar will take place.

After hearing Lord Count Dooku begin the game, both Ventress and he danced in their own conflicting flux. From the sallow eyes of general Grievous, the spar between the two was intimate in terms of the force

Where Count Dooku found the female was something Grievous could not process a thousand ways. Her abilities were feeble the first time they crossed paths, that was when Count Dooku decided to give the general the opportunity to prove his worthiness. The test: the general was to overcome Dooku's loyal assassin, Asajj Ventress, And Lock Durd aboard the Count's personal vessel. The general had accomplished the task without any complications, having decapitated Durd swifter long before dispatching Ventress unconscious whence he captured her as well. Soon afterward, Grievous would claim the title that would later provide him the reputation as the most feared general soon to come in the Clone Wars. Durd was none too estalgic over the news after his resurface from a week stay in bacta. Ventress' feelings was similar in terms of words, as for the physical approach Ventress wanted nothing more than to rip the general to pieces.

"Halt"

Stiffening his shoulders, Grievous blinked back to the Main Hanger and heard his master's voice lecturing Ventress for a fatal mistake. This time, Grievous smiled and could not help himself from endulging Ventress' foolish mistakes. _Superior. Yeah, sure. _Grievous inwardly joked.

When finished with Ventress' part of the spar, Grievous stood upright instead of his usual hunch-over posture. In doing so, the Count called Grievous over. Grievous stood next to Ventress, far enough to keep a distance but close enough to get the Dathomirian female unnerved.

"Now, I want you both to spar in order for me to gain a different perspective."

Both Grievous and Ventress agreed and took space in opposite directions. For a moment, Grievous could have made certain of Ventress making on offending disgusted face as they parted ways. In short of his rage, Grievous permitted it.

For the next five seconds.

"Begin."

Ventress was the first to charge. But the situation was so crystal clear that Grievous knew exactly where Ventress was going to strike. Using the erractic and chaotic forms of Juyo against Asajj's Form II Makashi, Grievous was able to deflect her feints and thrusts with ease. Though the form Makashi was a powerful form, there were some weaknesses that played out the demise for Ventress and victory for the general. One: Makashi is most useful when dueling a single opponent. In Grievous' case, he could fair against any challenge as five opponents. And two: the greatest flaw of the Makashi system is its lack of kinetic energy, where precision and blade control hampered the ability to generate momentum its offensive and defensive maneuvers. Ventress' attacks and parries are then proven nothing as Grievous could easily batter them aside and go for the kill with his strong emotions and vicious aggression.

Seeing his next attack, Ventress attempted to enforce a Makashi reposte that sadly ended with Grievous parrying her counter attack and knocking her off her balance with the force of his own erratic move. As unattractive as the attack may have been, it worked perfectly.

Ventress was off the floor in an instant, regaining her composure as she found her dual lightsabers in her hands. The glare she sent afterward was driven with a spitfire of unrestrained anger. _Good_, was what Grievous thought. The more irritated and agitated she was, Ventress was bound to take riskier approaches that will ultimately leave sloppiness in finesse and blind spots for Grievous to exploit. Victory would surely be his.

And that was exactly what she did. Ventress once again was the first to make the attack. Grievous could see the similiarity of Ventress' use in Dooku's fighting skills. But she was not Dooku. Dooku's skills were more elegant and respective, whereas, the witch's were unrefined and sloppy.

"You are tired," Grievous teased, cutting upward aiming for Ventress' chin. Ventress back flipped in time and stood with both sabers in an X-stance. "Shall we take a break for you to replenish."

"Silence, general," spat Ventress with wild eyes. "Don't you have a child to look after."

The sentence caught Grievous off guard. The responsibility of the child as well as her existence under his command was never made known by the general to anyone. He couldn't pinpoint as to whom would spill such a delicate information. The first assailant he could think of, of course, was that filth Nute Gunray, who had countless times attempted to bring the commander general down since the time of their mutual repugnance.

Grievous came in contact with yet another one of Ventress' vain attacks. Drawing himself up to his weapon, he leered down at the Dathomirian that dared cross him and growled: "What lies do you speak of, witch?"

"I know," Ventress confirmed with surety. "The malevolent general of the droid army is caring for a mangy pup. Oh dear, how pitiful."

Grievous slammed his second lightsaber against Ventress' dual lightsabers. Distressed, Ventress began to have difficulty holding her ground from the added pressure. "Look who's talking. You can't even hold against me, not that you ever could." Count Dooku declared something too incoherent for Grievous to consider as a cease or proclamation. "Your youth is dwindling, Ventress. As is your skill with a lightsaber."

Going in for a sweep—forcing the general to make an upward guard—at the same time Ventress spoke the phrase taboo up the general's mask: "I refuse to lose to a _half-droid_."

Grievous roared into a rumbling cry as he reached out and viciously clamped the woman's arm and flush into the floor. A sickening crack followed after the Dathomirian's collision on the floor. Ventress at first seemed unconscious, but her lips parted for air and her cold-cruel eyes wide in shock. But Grievous was too lost in his own blind rage to understand the extensive damage he had caused the sith assassin.

"Grievous stop!"

"I warned you to mind you tongue," Grievous viciously roared, ignoring his master's command. "Now you shall pay for your insolence, witch!" Raising his talon-foot over Ventress' head, Grievous would have surely put an end to the reign of Asajj Ventress without hesitation had Count Dooku not intervened. All it took was a gust of lightning that shook Grievous' entire body to reconnect him back from his killing spree. The after-shock of the blast made the air denser and a cloud of smoke emitting from Grievous, particularly the mask holes and beneath the crevices of his chest chamber. Sallow yellow eyes rolled back, the cyborg did not move for what—to him—was too long.

Smoking through his vocabulator, shifting between different audios Grievous could vaguely make out: "Send Ventress to the medic, she may have sustained damage to her spine."

"Roger, roger."

Audible footsteps could be heard from a distance. Only when Grievous could hear a non-mechanical pair of footsteps heading his way did he protest for the polarity of the electro-drivers in his mechanical hands to bring him up to indicate sign of life. Dooku brought himself to look at Grievous for one moment as Grievous gathered himself up before abruptly leaving after the witch without giving his loyal cyborg a good lecture for his unnecessary barbarism.

The general stood where he was, unable to keep himself from shaking uncontrollably. Arching his neck lowly to the ground Grievous clenched his fists as means of restraint, the duranium alloy that was his hands shook in protest from the intense strength. Squeezing his eyes shut, Grievous maintained the anger that was too much for him to restrain and somber. In one jerk, the ground became the means of his anger as Grievous repeatedly scratched and punched until his breath was caught and his eyes simmered into a drooping expression.

He never felt exhausted before, Grievous thought he never could. His eyes were heavy, his breathing ragged hoarse, his arms still shaking, and talons grating the floor. The pit of his heart stung, a feeling he felt unstable. Yes, he pondered. He was indeed exhausted. Slowing his breathing to an even rhythm, a rather comforting feeling rattled up Grievous' spine, and brought his mind to a dream.

_"You are such a kriffing lunatic, you know that?"_

_The male hunter gave a weak shrug to the woman at his side, who was tending to his wounds. _

_"I'm sorry."_

_"Sorry, my ass," the woman rolled the brilliant amber-yellow eyes residing behind the karabbac skull mask that covered her face safe for the protruding mandibles—to the gaping wound at his waist. "Look what you've done to yourself. Gods help me, I feel like your caretaker half the time."_

_"I'm sorry. . ."_

_The female smacked the ignorant male at the back of his head, though not too hard as to cause any more injuries than he already acquired for the day. "Pay attention, I am scolding you right now. You hear?"_

_"I'm sorry."_

_The tired woman breathed, vividly distressed with her companions pig-headedness. "Aye, Sheelal." Arching herself over her companion's chest, carefully moving her arms towards his broad shoulders while avoiding the patched up wounds from the skirmish they've survived minutes ago. Removing her skull off to the side to be forgotten or the next hour or so, the woman placed the temple of her forehead against the smooth bleached texture of the hunter's Muumuu skull mask. "What am I to do with you? You foolish man." Rising up over his body, the woman comfortably allowed herself to indulge in the man's alluring scent, taking in as much as she could to remember it with her for the rest of her lifespan to come. The man in turn rose his chin up to meet her stare, their eyes locked in strong intimacy. The jungle began to stir, the creatures native to these grounds cried too far to pose as a danger. The underside of the jungles trees shadowed the two lovers from the outside, baking them with the captivated heat the trees could trap._

_The kaleesh smiled from under his mask, gave his mate a sympathetic the satisfaction of his surrender to her plight, and flickered his gaze to her exotic form. "Stay with me within the bounds of this jungle for all eternity, my love."_

Breath caught, the general was left on the floor with an ache that once remained dormant deep within his heart.

Kummar. He spoke the name in delicate soft, having just now barely remembered her existence in his life. It was starting to come back to him in scrambled shards.

In his past mortal life, Grievous dreamt himself slaying a Muumuu with lig swords. At that time, he never harbored a fancy for swords, so the nature of the dream itself bewildered him as to why he would use such weaponry over his favored Czerka Arms outland Rifle. And yet he still ventured to ends of the jungle to fulfill his dream. Whence his arrival, Grievous was stunned to see, instead of he, a Kaleesh woman standing over a freshly slain Muumuu—with lig swords in both of her hands, covered in the blood of the Muumuu. While most would be irate, even insulted, in having their kill taken from them—Grievous was more captivated by the woman's form. After acquaintances were exchanged, Grievous learned the name of mysterious "sellsword" for remainder of his life: Ronderu lij Kummar. From that point afterward, Grievous and Kummar became quick companions, sharing the blood of their kills, journeying their planet endlessly, and teaching one another.

That was long ago. But now the woman Grievous had come to love and cherish was long gone, taken at the hands of the disgusting race his people grew to hate: the Huks. Soulless bugs, the lot of them. And though he got revenge for his love's death, the absence was still there in his grieving heart.

Bringing himself up, Grievous collected his cape and lightsabers and proceeded out the Hanger in melancholic silence. In hopes of forgetting the hurt and pain, Grievous returned to the bridge to regain what little warfare enlightenment he could scavenge.

After passing through the entrance to meet his crew, Grievous regretted coming to the bridge almost instantly. Standing at the center of the bridge, his back facing Grievous, Count Dooku was looking out to the viewport to something Grievous could not see. Grievous walked up behind the Count. Count Dooku did not even turn.

"Better."

"Yes."

"You competence leaves me to question the full extent of your sanity, general." Grievous detected the underlying honesty from his words as his master got right to the point. He only had himself to blame for his incompetence. "More importantly, this constant bickering has me at the end of my rope. Like you, Ventress is as much as important to our cause and shall remain that way until I no longer have any use for either of you."

"I am aware."

"Miss Ventress is currently in the medbay receiving medical attention for spinal damage. You best hope she is in no way impaired from her duties."

Grievous inwardly snorted in giving the witch his best wishes. The only wishes he ever dreamed for Ventress was death and/or humiliation.

"However. . . "

Grievous dared to look up to his master in question.

"You have proven yourself worthy to proceed more delicate tasks." Grievous shoulders stiffened in anticipation after catching ear of the next sentence: "Tasks relating to Jedi involvement in particular—task that will require you to make you're existence known."

Grievous nodded. "I am at your disposal, my lord. Any task given to me shall be completed to the letter." For good measure he added: "I will not fail you."

"According to our spies, there are two positive sightings of Jedi roaming the capital city in Sullust. I want you to leave immediately, find them, and eliminate them."

"It shall be done, my lord."

"The coordinates have already been transmitted to your vessel. Leave at once."

Grievous left instantly to his vessel, making his strides longer in eagerness out of impatience. He quickly jumped into the cockpit of the Soulless One, punched in the co-ordinates, and left to his destination.

Long before the skirmish, tidying herself up from the last testing, Ahsoka had felt a most disturbing ripple in the Force. It was vicious as it tore through the Force in dispassionate convulsions, Ahsoka's montrals even twitched in agitation.

"Your trials are completed, ma'am," the medical droid had said to her before it left to another emergency soon after. "You may rest on the gurney, or perhaps sit on the spare chair if you like. But you may not leave this room."

Ahsoka promised the droid she would just sit, thanking it for the treatment, and sat perfectly still on the only chair in meditation. It must have been midnight by now, perhaps later. Sometimes it was too difficult to predict the exact time zone for Ahsoka to feel, not even the Force could inform her as well. She pressed her forefingers together out of boredome, and thought harder as to the ongoings of the ship. So far, she could interpret that the fleet was still in orbit, still orbiting the decimated planet Ahsoka was forced to witness.

Ahsoka sighed and didn't pursue to close to the planet for fear of seeing something she didn't want to see.

The next thing she felt made her jump in fright. Count Dooku walked into the room just as Ahsoka felt his dark presence through the Force.

The Count regarded her with a half-sympathetic smile. "Hello again," he greeted courteously. "I assume you are finished."

"Yes, sir."

Dooku nodded to her. "Very good." Dooku retreated out the door. "Come."

Ahsoka followed after Count Dooku, having to trot just to keep up with the Sith Lord. "Where are we going?"

The Count face turned into a smile. "You will know soon enough."

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I finally added a Ventress vs Grievous bit. Fear not, there will be more Grievous hate Ventress moments soon to come.

For now, ya'll know what to do.

(Review. . . or else)

Latina out.


	11. Chapter 11

Just want to thank all my fans for supporting me in my writing. Seriously you guys, you have no idea how much your reviews mean to me. And have no fear, I will never give up on this story. In fact I plan promoting my story further but that will all be revealed in due time. Until then enjoy this chapter and more to come.

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Search And Kill

As the two only organic beings made their destination to the bridge, the young Togruta Ahsoka took the silent moment to swim into the ripples that were the force. Ignoring the cutting shrills her escort was emitting under the graceful leisure he took to, the young Togruta felt for anything that could be closely recognized as an acquainting familiar. Anything to comfort her like the shimmering warmth that usually radiated from master Plo Koon, or the same vibrant blankets of tranquility that resided in every corridors of the Jedi Temple. Just the small remembrance brought Ahsoka to choke back a soft moan of want for her old life. A life where she was not being prepped for experimentation against her government, or tormented into a forced servitude unless otherwise, beaten until capitulated. But above all, she wished for her life where master Plo Koon and she used to walk down the paths of the Jedi Temple like they frequently did when she was smaller.

The mere memory brought back the past whence, earlier in her years, she was delighted to see the Kel Dorian whisked her away from her youngling group and enjoy the evening splendors of walking through the temple gardens. The sweet smells of the flowers and trees they bred filled Ahsoka's nose with its delicious scents as they strolled around, waving to other fellow Jedi as she walked at the Council members side.

But, though her habitual tendencies of poking and prodding through the force, Ahsoka could feel nothing she felt accustomed to. Nothing of large size, with a dark, guarded, liberty that defined the character it signatured. Nothing that had always sent Ahsoka to shrivel and leave untouched. All she could see was a vast desert of nothingness.

And then it hit her to realize just what it was she was looking for. Or hoping to look for? Ahsoka questioned her motives as it began to dawn on her the company of the bio-droid she trusted as a bodyguard and caretaker was sorely missed on her part. She knew that it was never long when he would leave her by herself, usually taking extreme pleasure to have her at his side as he carried about his actions freely against those who were unable to oppose his purpose. But when exactly did this attachment birthed? At what point did Ahsoka's liberty become dependent for that monster? It made her feel worse that perhaps something was wrong with her. Or that the trauma Grievous inflicted upon her over through the duration of her contract damaged her mental independency to, over time, limp unless supported at his leisure.

Either way, the craving did not leave even as Ahsoka desperately tried to shrug it off both physically—and mentally. As much as she tried to dismiss for good, the dreaded thought still remained: she didn't want to be with Count Dooku anymore. She knew better though. It was suppose to be Count Dooku to depend on, and not general Grievous. It was Dooku who had Grievous' servitude at his whim, not Grievous' influence upon her that should be leading her to security. But then again, as Ahsoka began to replay the time spent with the Count, there was never a time where Ahsoka could not shake off that disgusting crawling feeling whenever the Sith laid eyes on her.

Against her better self, Ahsoka tried again. She felt nothing. It started to sting again, and it worried her more so.

"Ahsoka?"

Blinking twice, Ahsoka perked her head up to Count Dooku, and remembered that she was supposed to be following him. "I'm sorry? My apologies, I was thinking."

"Do concentrate on the matter at hand." The hiss of irritation did not escape Ahsoka's hearing. "For my sake," Dooku asked with bland courteous.

Jittering on her own feet, Ahsoka put in a quick bow as low as she could while at the same time trying to appease the Sith. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

The count waved her apology as if it were nothing. "It matters not. This undisciplined behavior only recalls me of your youthful ignorance. It's not your fault—of course—but leaves you in a position of questioning whether you are a compatible asset to my cause."

"I assure you I am. It's just. . . how do I say this properly—I don't know." In spite of her best efforts, Ahsoka was at the brink of chewing off her lower lip to keep from crying.

"Settle down, little one. Settle down," Dooku rested, placing his arm over Ahsoka's shoulder to keep her from shaking, dispelling her fear to instant numb. "I meant nothing of it. It is still in my interest to utilize your efforts." Lifting his arm, Dooku patted her head softly with a similarity to her master's fond gestures. "After all, you've been such a _good girl_. And I know you would never disappoint me. . . Ahsoka," he wooed.

At hearing that, Ahsoka let go an uneasy breath, then nodded slowly as they came closer to their destination. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Now where was I?" The senior Sith took a moment, then collected himself no long after. "I was asking what lightsaber basics have you practiced," Dooku repeated, yet was unable to hide the displeasure for repetition.

Ahsoka mentally compiled any particular training she underwent in the past, particularly the important ones. Or at least the ones she thought was the most important. "O-h, yes. I've covered basics in terms of guarding and parries—you know, in case of blaster fire and necessary self-defense."

"So you have gone over the most basic of techniques, then?"

"Yes, sir."

"And offense?"

"That part?" Ahsoka thought for a moment once more, and then answered in somber, "I didn't get through. For my age group, we go through the simple tasks such as defensive practice, studying the galaxies various known planets, and meditation uses."

Standing at the eye of the bridge, the Count regarded two simple B1-droids to his attention, looked over whatever it was they were holding, and shooed them away. "That is a shame," he examined over with pity towards the Togruta before him. "I would have thought you've managed some means of technique."

"Please don't be mistaken, sir," Ahsoka quickly interjected. "I'm a quick learner. I was even praised for my advance abilities for my age."

"We shall see in later time," Dooku said. "Besides that, on a different subject, has my general been keeping you good company? Despite the previous conflicts you have brought to stress upon him—as well as his. . . _charming_ personality, it urges me to ask for your wellbeing," Dooku spoke with a thick veil air of nurture and understanding. And all awhile he spoke his concerns, Ahsoka could not deny an unshakable feeling like a Sarlaac was latching onto its prey with its tentacle ready to devour its meal.

"His charming personality as you may call it doesn't even come close his actions and methods when it concerns to the safety of others," coldly stated Ahsoka. "He's a barbarian, and someone who would prefer to end conflicts with a massacred civilization than civilized debates for world peace. I'm sorry, but I can't find it to be at ease to be near him knowing he has liberties to do as he pleases."

"On the contrary, he had these freedoms because I allow him to."

"But. . . why!"

"Simple, my dear," Dooku stated. "Grievous proves satisfactory to my every expectation. Had he not, then I would have disposed his purpose long ago." He said it so easily that the level of detachment could be highly distinguished.

"But you_ do_ feel he should approach these delicate matters under a more humane condition?"

Count Dooku nodded thoughtfully. "Yes. There are times when I contemplate the obstacle. However, politics aren't always settled under peaceful conditions either. Sometimes, there are issues that must be answered with a more . . . aggressive approach."

"I understand that not everyone can agree on one single opinion," Ahsoka admitted, keeping her opinions as brief as her inner conflict would allow. "But it should not call for aggressive acts like Grievous."

"Ah, but then all my efforts into my fabrication would have been for not. Including his training."

Ahsoka stared after the man with a gaping expression as his back was turned to her to face the viewport. "You trained general Grievous the arts of lightsaber, Lord Dooku? But he's not even—"

"Force sensitive," Dooku cut in smoothly. "That trait hardly aroused for my attention whereas his motivations and intelligence deemed more worthy to recruit."

"Recruit?"

She heard another smile planting under the senior human's smooth beard. "Yes, recruit can be one way of putting it," he mused softly, staring off to the distance towards something Ahsoka could not see. Her montrals tingled from the thick air of agitation and deception that started to loom over the Sith Lord like a preying bird-like creature. "It was by pure fate our paths ever crossed." He continued to say. "He probably never enlightened you of his employment—though, it is a rather . . . _touchy _subject on his behalf."

"I'm not much of a gossiper, sir," said Ahsoka flatly.

"And yet you urge many questions."

Ahsoka dropped her gaze from his back, voice meekly speaking, "One must be curious as means to learn the knowledge of others."

"Yes, but curiosity can also lead to one's own demise." He turned back to Ahsoka now, entrapping her in a solid gaze that kept her immobile and alert to his conversation. "The first time I met the dear general it was under less than civilized territory. He was originally under the employment of the Trade Federation—Gunray's field—but after observing the genius he carried with tactics, why I simply could not leave such a thing sullied by San Hill's and Nute Gunray's influence. He was more than eager to appoint to the Separatist movement."

Ahsoka had to ask nastily, "Has he always been so . . . well—_him_?"

"I cannot find such a time when he was not."

"How dreadful."

"That may be so, but the general proves his methods to be far more efficient to my expectations." The count had a thoughtful smile planted upon his expression, fixing his silvered mustache in a way that left to question whether he meant his words. "I assure you, my dear. In the end it is I who commands Grievous at will. He is obedient at my whim, and had been reminded on such occasions not to believe otherwise."

Count Dooku's flashy declaration did not comfort Ahsoka in the least bit. It wasn't just because he was a Sith Lord, but it failed Ahsoka to believe that anyone could truly control Grievous.

"And I really do hope. . ." a finger played upon the tip of Ahsoka's elaborate constraint, tipping the edge in an almost teasing gesture that Ahsoka found to be most uncomfortable. The count looked down on her with a dark shadow over his face safe for the eyes that watched her like a vulture watching its prey slowly die to feast upon its mortal flesh. ". . . that I will not have to conduct the same manner against your liberties as well."

"Yes, sir."

"And, Ahsoka?"

Ahsoka, weary enough as it is, took a weak gaze up to the diplomat. "Yes, sir?"

"Please refer to me as master, would you?" he asked with a detached smoothness. "You are under my tutelage, so it is only natural to refer me as such."

Stricken with surprise but unwilling to displease, Ahsoka made a small movement of a nod in response, "Yes, sir—I mean . . . . . master. . ."

On a planet of far distance from the flagship, the sky had not the slightest hint of brightness to the murky shades of grey as the rain fell upon the metropolis with a roaring passion. The streets were crowded with inhabitants seeking dry refuge from the moisture, biting back the passing winds that stung at the flesh without remorse, as it were; Grievous was kept in the dark with ease. Not a single person had noticed him, nor could, fortunately, if not for the rain. The colorless hues that were the city and its pale and discolored civilians worked well against the general's bleached-colored physique. If not for the bright yellow that were his eyes, Grievous could have truly been invisible to a passerby who would make the mistake to point him out against the bland structures. Thankfully, nearly all inhabitants were too preoccupied to the ongoing of their city for the sake of their own wellbeing.

_Mindless bugs_. Grievous had thought at a moment. A civilization that based itself on surviving working-class to not only their occupations but to their society as well. All money profited directed from the coal mines, refineries, and manufacturing of metal property uses for regular items, led to the destruction to their once-rumored-green-planet to a dead wasteland reconstructed into cities, railways, and construction sites, leaving little to no vegetation to survive unless manufactured—and the air was so stale that it stung the eyes.

It was at this moment, as he scaled around pipes aligned to various buildings, that the cyborg wished to be over and done with today's task. Grasping firmly to the edge the rooftop not far away from grievous' standpoint, he maneuvered his weight to leap off the wall that was his resting point to the top of the next building. Gathering himself Grievous took another small moment to gaze over the cities current state, snarled, and ventured further to the location that led to the objective of his occupation. The rain was only getting stronger, and would have swept Grievous toppling had his weight not been such an advantage against the merciless weather. Rain was something the bio-droid found to dislike over the years, even before his rebirth, it was something he truly hated. Droplets stung at Grievous' eyes and cascades in a way that made it seem as if he were crying. Cape discarded behind within his personal vessel, The Soulless One, the general had no means of keeping himself dry. The fear of rust did not enter his database as Grievous knew the materials that crafted him were well put, and thus, such a petty handicap was the least of his concerns. The lightsabers at his waists, all four accounted for, dripped from the constant precipitation. That, on a different consideration, was his biggest concern. It would truly be an eyesore if any of his favored weapons malfunctioned and left him unguarded. Nevertheless, Grievous did his best to stay as dry as possible as he ventured through the city discreetly and neared closer to the power plant. Escalating through a series of passageways, and carefully stalking over roofs that were not as well welded, Grievous was nearing his destination without difficulty the more adept he was to the unending waves of weather.

A speeder was making its way towards the same direction just above the same rooftop Grievous was stalking on. Just as it flew by, Grievous made for a jump and magnetized his footing just as his talons nimbly touched against the hull of the speeder. Neither passengers nor driver were none the wiser to the bio-droid pressed against the hull of their ship. And when they made a turn from the flank of the power plant, none noticed the decrease in weight their vessel was exceeding as a blur zipped through the air and cut through the rain in a split second to the darker regions of the narrow streets that remained alone and desolate from people. Grievous landed on all fours with graceful precision as to not cause an uproar from the sudden impact. He lifted himself and recollected, then stalked toward and below the bridge that led to the power plant where it was nested inside a narrow but un-hindering crevice flanking the bleak and dreary city it scarred. Grievous, who was always one for appearances and dramatic entry, thought it best to press forth as it were such, and knew best that, despite his habit, it necessary to simply deny his targets the satisfaction to the existence of their demise.

In accord with the grace and dexterity his mechanical appendages afforded him, the general sentient crawled from under the bridge and inside the power plant through a secret passageway his databank located provided from the blueprints his master gave him. The first sense that caught the general off-guard was the sudden change in temperature as he made his way to the heart of the plant. Large blankets of tasty warmth enveloped the general, drying the moisture from his body in a matter of minutes.

Utilizing the pipes warping the ceilings and stairs as if they were the veins of a body structure, Grievous hid within and rounded himself in the direction where his intelligence reported where the fiends were last noticed. He could make sense of the steam and the oil-burning smell even without his sense of smell. He lurched back as a sudden blast of steam gave off from a pipe that was a good distance away from the general's face plate. Grievous would admit the combustion startled him, but registered such an expression was humiliating and was inwardly grateful none had seen his startled reaction. He would surely be shamed had that orange child seen him. What would she have done had she witnessed? Laugh? Snicker? He would smote her with his saber or smack her forehead for sure. Fortunate for both parties, the occurrence did not occur. And Grievous was fine by that.

It didn't take long to locate the two immigrants, much to the genera's chagrin who was hoping for the hunt to prolong into a suspenseful mood that would surely satisfy his pleasures. Over the second reactor crouching on to the pipe that connected to it, Grievous eyed the two—both unmistakable decedents of the Jedi Order—as they lurked around the shadows like the vermin they were—likely to steal the reactor's energy. Grievous hissed lowly, ready to release his talons from his perch and ambush them without them noticing. And when he was sure they were securely inside the room with just the three of them, Grievous simultaneously locked all exit directions, and was delighted to see how this affect had on the two Jedi. Their shocked expressions were a delightful picture to Grievous, who, at this point, released his hold from his hiding place and emerged from the pipes and in the open for the two force-wielders to behold. Had it not been for the mask, he would have bid them a smile that neither meant hello or pleasant but cheeky and arrogant. When the two Jedi beheld the general's overall appearance, their surprised was widely obviously. More so when the vocabulator fixed in the bleached mask staring them down intently began to produce vocal sounds that were ghostly independent of an organic.

"My my. What have we here?" His eyes smiled brightly from the orange scenery the energy produced in its core reactors and batteries that helped function it. "Vermin in need of extermination."

The man's expression quickly altered. "I should say the same to you. . . sir?" he spoke calmly, but the wariness in his eyes did his features injustice. By now, Grievous could clearly make out distinct characteristics from the man who spoke a human and the other, quiet, shorter companion a Twi'lek. "I take it you to be the guardian of this treacherous factory?" He asked politely.

"That remains dependent to the gist of my current assignment," Grievous mused, "Including revealing my existence before you."

"Whichever it is, I must insist you to stay out of our way. We here under the services of the Republic, and prefer to avoid taking innocent blood."

Grievous waved off the statement with a hand, stepping closer as the two began to distance themselves. "I know why you are here, I assure you. There is no confusion."

"If you are true, then we implore you to stand aside," the second, obviously younger, Jedi spoke urgently. That one practically reeked of fear. His elder companion silence the youth with a swift gesture, as if not to cause to provoke the general further.

Grievous looked to them with a dark humor, chuckling to himself the cyborg spoke: "So long as your kind lives, I will not rest." To make himself perfectly clear, Grievous touched at his waist where his four trophies glimmered. When their eyes met to where the general was gesturing towards, they took to quick stances. "And I. . ," the buzzing ignition sounded twice as the vocabulator twisted into a darker tone,". . . see it against my function to merely stand aside while you scurry about with your filth."

The older man called his weapon to his hand as he raised his arm into stance. The other did the same. Both equally adept with the powers the Force graced them, the two Jedi indicated sheer focus and poise without the slightest difficulty. It was quite obvious who was the master and who was the student between the two, as Grievous came to see the lack of finesse in the farthest figure's posture including their discipline with their weapon. But in the fragmented second Grievous took to observe, neither compelled the other to step down, nor did each portray any conformation of fear against the being hovering over them. It became clear who they were facing up against. And they had no intentions of falling before this creature's blade.

The said creature, on the other hand, had other arrangements.

"Before we proceed this unnecessary quarrel, may I ask for the appellation of your acquaintance?"

Grievous blinked for a moment and frowned at the statement in puzzlement. This has never occurred in his previous memory bank, as many combatants who foolishly faced the general never left with their life to even mouth of his existence. So there was no need to grace them his name.

"I see no need to do so," Grievous responded, "as you will be dead soon enough."

"Surely you cannot be so arrogant to believe you can best _two_ Jedi?" the master asked, almost jokingly.

"On the contrary," Grievous countered by flashing his weapon, "I have bested your kind on multiple occasions. This will be no different."

"Very well, have it your way."

To Grievous' surprise it was the youth that made the first at charging at him head on. Grievous parried the young Twi'lek easily, then batting him from his path with his other. This went on for several approaches, until Grievous was fed with the Twi'lek's persistence and made for a stab at his heart that cat through the air with a hiss. The Twi'lek foresaw the attack as quick as it came, pushing from his left footing to sidestep and slice at the general's attacking appendage. What the tail-headed alien could not see was the durasteel knee ramming straight into his stomach. A cracking sound was heard—most likely ribs breaking—as the young apprentice went sailing across the room and colliding against a nearby radiator. Grievous gaited towards the fool and raised his lightsaber over his head to take the apprentices'.

Until the ceramic armorplast-plated duranium, electrodrivers, and crystal circuitry that composed the general's body was sent soaring by some invisible force.

Grievous collected himself quickly as he steadied himself from the wall he collided with, chiding himself for forgetting the key attribute separating the Jedi from the rest of the galaxy: their ability to manipulate the Force.

The master came to his pupil's rescue in a heart's beat, lifting the young man by the arm then returning his undivided attention to the general. Grievous howled and hurled a fury of attacks that forced both duelists to press against the bio-droid rather than one at a time. Grievous snarled as he made for vicious blows towards vital areas, such as their limbs and heads—and in the Twi'lek's case, his head-tails. To slice off the headtail of any tail-headed creature is said to be of most excruciating pain, even brain damage. The Twi'lek must have sense the general's intentions for he became more defensive above his shoulders as they proceeded with their deadly dance. The eldest master, as expected, took over most of the most lethal stabs, only exhausting himself from exertion. His foolish attempts to assist his student only dwindled in stances the more he wasted energy, and allowing the powerful general Grievous more opportunities to strike and punish them for their mistakes.

Feinting an attack before back flipping a yard away, the jedi took the time to catch their breaths, droplets of moisture glittered their skin against the lights. The elder gave Grievous a stare. And Grievous smugly returned the stare, his chest rumbled into a sensational cheer resembling joy.

_Yes. This is what it has come down to. _

It was moments like this that Grievous felt that he was living up to the occupation of his recreation. His master's great effort for giving him the opportunity to act his revenge and soothe the pleasure of warfare he long for were not in vain. Nor, as he grudgingly came to accept, did the banking clan's funding for his body was wasted at his leisure. No, Grievous repaid his new life's debt with his loyal services and the blood of Jedi and any disloyal subjects who dared fight against his leaders as interest.

Behind the detached, expressionless bleached mask there hid a smirk of triumph. "I shall not fail. So long as this heart beats, your Order will finally come to and—as it should have long ago." He lurched forward and swiped at the ground upward to throw off the Jedi's peripheral vision. When the older man, who was still gasping for breaths, was too slow to raise his lightsaber in time to defend himself from the attack that would surely follow. And for all the great efforts the master put into protecting his apprentice, taking the blows and defending them both when the apprentice was suppose to help his master instead, he paid the ultimate price: the loss of his appendages.

A spray of blood filled the room as the man kneeled to the ground as he saw helplessly as his arms dropped to the floor with loud 'thumps', his lightsaber clattered somewhere in the distance. His eyes re-directed to the shadow hovering over him, but that was he saw before he felt the stab of sheer energy piercing his lungs, then his heart, until the last feeling was the cauterization of his head from his neck. And then all was dark, and nothingness.

Brimmed with an adrenaline that made his eyes glisten with lustful agony, Grievous repeated his acts until the corpse was filled with holes and chopped to tinier pieces. Innards became unrecognizable, a corpse reduced from a body to a gorish pile of hot lumps and sludge, filling the room with a new fragrance Grievous once smelled as a mortal in the battlefield. And out of the corner of his vision, his audience watched in his affliction as his master was horridly mangled by a monster. Adding to the irony of his master's fall, Grievous made a show of bending down and pledging the mess in cheer.

"It appears I_ can_ best two Jedi. But fear no more, for you have been given the honor of a warriors death." If he had the ability, he would have spat at his fallen-once-duelist—but felt his attention was better needed to the ignored, and helpless novice who began to back away as the Twi'lek realized the creature was looking for him now. "It appears your master's efforts in protecting you were in vain. Now I ask, should you, too, fall—and shame your master with your death."

In response to the general, the Twi'lek yelled and attacked him like he did before; using some of the skills Grievous learned when he first learned the art of lightsaber combat. This young man was nothing to worry over. Grievous did little to defend himself, and offered with bland vigor in returning the favor. Each blow he blocked, and each parry he batted away with ease. When it finally dawned that he was no match for the mechanical warrior, the young Twi'lek turned on his heels and ran for the nearest available exit.

Grievous raced after the young man with a quick speed, a quick remembrance of déjà vu washed over his previous arrangement whence his Togruta charge behaved in the same manner, under the same impression that she could elude him. He confessed her absence was miraculously having an effect on him, but he would never admit to her or anyone in particular. It was a feeling he could not finely describe as many feelings and sensation to be vague whereas his anger was more precise and clear. And this was not anger, but something Grievous made to reside from the years of his previous life as the being that once had a peaceful life and tranquility in the swamp of famine and forced-reparations.

But that was long ago. And he was in need of maintenance if that is what it took to get the notion through his cranium.

He did what he could for his people. And for his family. . .

Before a rattling sensation crawling through his mind registered, a flourish of green was the next slide flashing his yellow eyes. Grievous took action without seconds thought, bringing up his lightsaber to shield the other blade from slicing his shoulder blade. Reaction was all that drove his limbs and circuital veins to attack, nothing but pure animosity and intensity fueled by a re-awakened rage. The lone Jedi, master-less and stranger to his own blade, summoned a diversity of dashes and swipes with a renewed vigor that reconsidered past pity towards the young duelist's abilities. Grievous began to worry—not for his demise, Gods no!—but for whether this deluded creature carried the aspect that he could injure the general in some way. He could help but inwardly laugh at the mere thought as he was incapable of feeling pain any longer.

_"Flesh is weak. You need only gaze on me to see that."_

And Grievous was not weak, he was power developed from the dark forces of Sith and machine, he had not equal, and he would make sure of that. In fact, when the young man was about to make another hasty retreat Grievous followed after and, in a flurry of vibrant blue, dispatched the latter the usage of his right leg. The padawan fell to the floor, twisting and screaming for the stump that was once his leg. This show was watched by a feeling of pity and revulsion as general Grievous neared his victim. His arm lifted over his head with his lightsaber still ignited, hissing the air for flesh, Grievous prepared to continue what he should have done before he was rudely interrupted.

"It appears it would seem so."

And with that note, the padawan was quickly removed from below the waist, then from his head, until, he too, joined his master's state—though in less mutilation.

Poor thing, really.

But sympathy was a tool of the Jedi. And Grievous would be damned if he ever attributed their traits. Kicking with his right talon, the body was pushed over and dumped into passing magma deposit where a black smoke exerted from the fires and vanished, the body removed from this galaxy forever. Only the lightsaber, which was now in the possession of a durasteel hand, remained.

The other lightsaber the reptilian eyes took to gander was given more special treatment.

It bothered the general to a degree to the dedication the master Jedi had for his pupil, despite his student's mental incapability. That sort of behavior was highly discouraged with the sitih, as Dooku made it plainly clear whence he proved insolent and arrogant before his master. Not long after his rebirth, Grievous was allowed the chance to train with the arts of lightsaber, and took to it quickly. But what the Sith Lord really wanted to teach him was the reality that affections of any description blinds one's true ambition unless driven with the passion of rage to push one towards it. And that was that. There was no mutual community between he and his master.

But. . . it was compelled of another time in which such a moment existed. And like his recent logs, his memory started yet another, more prominent recollection.

_He raised his makeshift sword and swished it around just as he was told to do so. Or at the very least, he tried. And of course, it was never satisfactory._

_"No. No. No! You foolish boy," was the starting lecture each time he made a mistake, and each time he was yelled at for his mistake, the young boy winced. _

_The harsh voice came from a woman who but a moment ago sat in meditation not too far ways where the boy was practicing his techniques. Her pale lips quirked in a sneer, but her eyes brightened with a lively countenance that questioned whether she was ever truly angry at all. She appeared before the boy in an instant with the same stern expression that gave every indication of a harsh lecture to follow._

_"Your stance is lacking finesse, your sword hails to low, and your mind is not clear," she would saw through those pale lips. Her eyes watching her very young pupil stare up to her with watery eyes. "Why if I could meditate beyond the extreme of Grendaju, I will probably still hear the anger that clouds your mind."_

_"Meh," the child grumbled as his ears dropped miserably. "You always say silly stuff like that. I don't see why I have to watch what I feel just cuz' of what I'm doing."His answer was a hard, but controlled chop to the top of his head. The boy fell back and rubbed at his black hair tenderly. "Ow. Crazy woman," he hissed in his people's tongue. _

_The woman took her seat where she stood and continue to give the ignorant child her stare. "You watch what you say, child. You hear me." It was the tone in her voice that put the boy in his place in an instant, as it soon came clear to mind his mouth. He rubbed at his left mandible out of nervous habits, and frowned. The woman continued. "You were very young when I found you, alone in the forest. But before I did, what was it exactly that drove you to continue to survive in the jungles of Kunbal Jungle? Answer honestly, else I'll know your deceit."_

_His frowned deepened, unsure how to answer the question without being scolded until he gave up and spoke his mind. Truthfully. What he remembered was mouthed: "I don't know. I was scared to die, I guess."_

_"Fear can lead a person to do many things, even things they aren't even aware of doing."_

_The young boy nodded, his ears perked up in joy at how his answer was able to satisfy his strict teacher. _

_"Now, the Yam'rii," the appellation was spoken with a delicate approach. But boy still flared with an anger birthed inevitably over the years. "why do they do the things they do?"_

_"That's easy. They don't have a soul."_

_"No that is not case."_

_"Then what is?" The boy demanded harshly. "They are stupid insects who follow their greed and enjoy making our people into their slaves and playthings. I hate it," he yelled viciously, "I hate **them**!"_

_"There. Right there!" The woman pointed out expectantly. She crept closer to the child, caressing his cheek tenderly, soothing his anger to subside as her striped headtails fell at her side. Her montrals twitched forlornly at this child's pain and the woman placed her orange cheek against his natural Kaleesh black hair. "Be calm, little one. Remember what I taught you. . ." she reminded softly, and was heeded automatically by her pupil as he took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders. She let go. "These Soulless Bugs of which you speak of so fondly clearly act on greed. Greed is a key instrument to the dark side's advantage."_

_"The Dark side?"_

_"Yes," she confirmed. "Anger, Greed, Fear, Hate, Lust, and unfortunately. . . love," she spoke the last word with less tenderness and more sullenly. "They are what drive a person to commit both extreme and awful things, whether they are aware of it or not. . . but they can also drive a person to commit things with a clear compassion."_

_The boy thought hard for a moment, until he couldn't decipher what it was this crazy alien was trying to explain to him and gave up. He just couldn't get this Jedi religion. "I don't get it. You don't want me to feel anything—but at the same time you are telling me to use my emotions to lead my actions?"_

_"Close, but not quite. I want you to mind your emotions for they are what compel you to take action with other people or situations. Be mindful of your thoughts, for they can betray you from seeing the situation at hand clearly."_

_"I guess." The boy thought on it hard, and clicked. "I think I got it. Just don't get so angry all the time and I'll be able to focus on things and get it right, is that it?"_

_"Yes." She stood again. Taking the boy's hand, she lifted his sword to the angle of her satisfaction and took a single bare step back. "Again, but don't be so frustrated just because you didn't get it right the first time."_

_"Yes, ma'am."_

_The boy did as he was instructed and slashed at an invisible enemy the same way the teacher told him to. But the experience was much more different unlike the other failed attempts. He felt connected in some way, as he let his emotions still and quiet and allowed the peaceful silence of compassion take over his movements. He danced for what seemed like a slow, and beautiful moment as he landed his final attack to the ground, took a few breaths, turned to his master, and smiled in pride._

_"I guess what you said helped, gramma!"_

_He was bashed in the head by the powerful orange fist. _

_"If I were any other Togruta, you'd be beaten to the ground."_

Grievous snapped his eyes to reality. He thought hard on the fragmented memory as he always did to the other times this has happened to him. And as he made for his departure to sanctuary of his flagship, Grievous pondered the existence of the Togruta woman as he returned to his master with two freshly deserved trophy lightsabers in tow.

* * *

Heh. Sorry, but this chapter felt kind of short and boring to me, but anyways I am pleased to finally point out the Togruta woman into my story now. So yay. But, what does this mean? I guess you all will have to find out. And I apologize for my absence, it is a tough senior year for me right now, so things are kind of hectic.

But anyways, you know the drill.

Please review


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